Poetry and Clarity

I am in one of my rare, delectable, melancholy, poetic frames of mind. I am physically weary - spent the day walking around looking at kick scooters (like Razors and Xootrs), then scooting about. I am not sure how much convenience I gained in choosing one, as it weighs 10 pounds and leaves me perspiring when I carry it about. But O, the sweet downhills.

Then I immersed myself in a DVD: the anime Metropolis. Reminded me a bit of the romance of youth, which is always sweet; and also, the ending was slightly tart, slightly bitter. Fortunately I had a bag of Tostitos and a jar of salsa con queso to console me.

There are times when a person needs poetry to make sense of things. It comes in cycles - for weeks, you can't bear to open a book of poetry, and then one evening, when perhaps you are tired, you read the words of a poet and you need those words at that moment. Things remain obscure, but - for a moment at least - you know what clarity is. And then the artist steps back into the shadows.