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We walked up the eight million stony steps to Mount Bonnell for respite.

It was a shaky walk for my feet.

I nearly stumbled.

But, in the end, I somehow caught myself.

This was our first time there at dusk.

All we wanted was to feel the air move and cool our skin.

You know, in some places, the air moves.

It’s called wind.

But Austin, in the summertime, is stagnant and sweltering.

Austin, in the summertime, knows no forgiveness.

Clandestine lovers perched on rocks and shady nooks.

The beast with two backs.

Someone sneezed and then farted and then said,

“Permiso.”

He couldn’t control himself as well as he could

excuse himself.

We only brought the music in our souls and

a camera.

Mount Bonnell is one of Austin’s attractions.

It’s an arid height.

At dusk, when sunlight grows scarce, it’s a dangerous place

for people who have trouble walking,

or have no depth perception.

I have trouble walking.

I have no depth perception.

My brain has suffered something like thirteen strokes.

At least that’s when the doctors stopped counting.

At thirteen.

Seeping blood has killed off whole regions.

Neurons are now dead matter.

Brown and inert.

I had to relearn how to walk.

I had to relearn how to tell depth.

Thank you, Brain, for being elastic.

God bless your elasticity.

But you still have seizures.

You still have electrical rampages

that make me beat the ground real hard.

My favorite fruit is watermelon.

I don’t mind the seeds.

I eat them for protein.

While my daughter made light trails with our camera,

painting the sensor with colors and trippy shapes

780 ft above sea level,

I lit my cigar and had a meaningful thought

that ultimately left me wondering:

There’s a difference [on the order of eternity] between what we can see

and what we can’t.

Between the seen and unseen.

On which should I fix my eyes?

::Keep it locked on TOE::

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