3209. EXILE AT FULMER'S POINT

EXILE AT FULMER'S POINT

All was in the taking down; my jasmine wand,
your harlequin. Standing at the top of a hill,
watching the sun fall slowly, dropping without a
sign from an insensate sky to some more morose
exile at the other side of this world. How long
and often we have waited for these moments?
-
Alongside us, in a white Park Ranger truck,
the slavishly attentive Ranger sat in his seat.
I watched - the window was open but an inch
or two, the air-conditioner poundingly blew
with the engine yet running, and there he sat,
diddling like a fool, jamming away of his onboard
computer keyboard : the names of all the stars,
the declensions of the planets, or just, as of us,
the names and identities of fools? Actually, he
really knew nothing at all, and I knew it.
-
Soon a vivid and rainbow colored sky set the
lower light of evening straight before us.
Reds, deep yellows, and even a halting green.
I could not deem, for anything, a reason for all of
this - and at that moment realized, no different
than the ranger, that I too was a fool in a dark,
unknown palace of intrigue. You and I, we smiled,
and somehow managed to walk away together.