John Schmoyer: From the Heart First
From the Heart First
©2002 John Schmoyer
Charles works the pumps at the Exxon. Seems to be a mindless wanderer, irresponsible, generation 18 faking conversation—quirky smile—easing past reality lost in cd’s ripping combinations of rap, classical and jazz.
Quick night Friday Change rattles, lint flies from one pocket to another. Patience loops red around patron neck. Here it comes no, no, not now— peculiar look forthcoming … he mutters “may I ask you a question, where is it that you get your ideas?”
Fingerprint doorway slightly ajar eyes roll and thoughts recover for rapid reply.
Shall I tell him about observations on life? How ‘bout sincere insight that articulates with raspy voice an emotion, an image, yes, images always stacked neatly like junk food leaning out the sides of four-tiered aluminum racks? Do I speak on behalf of personal choice— maybe Sandburg’s Fire-Logs, Levine’s Lion. Do I shoot the breeze on light shadows at dusk, cloud shapes at midday, a woman’s breasts, a mans ache, a giraffes neck, a dogs bark, love won-love lost, or do I simply say use your damn imagination, play with words, build a bridge, tinker with time and place enjoy each and every face, be persistent, patient, impulsive, smile wide and often, search for ways to quench your thirst. And when you finally decide to put your pen to paper remember and remember always… from the heart first the heart first.