Tarmac Meditations #137: The Carnival is in Town

Into the room the elephants come and go remembering Michelangelo (I always wanted to do that) giving advice over coffee cups and dirty spoons, speaking words of love as if in the alley of recently uncrated targets and teddy bears, that are props in the carnival of our lives, a zoo of our own making fading away under the weight of black and white dreams never to be repeated. A kiss is still a kiss, so too the abyss. The elephants know that memory is a two edged sword. Memory is indifferent to itself and its use, on account of the past is always past. Even when it is never really past, (Bill Faulkner said that, I think).

The zoo is always open. Until it isn’t.

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