5:15 a.m. 918 consecutive (almost) days of this daybreak walk at Cove Island Park. Like in a row.
I wasn’t going to post this. Nope. I’m so much bigger than this. I am. No I’m not bigger than this. Not close. As petty as they come.
It’s 6:04 a.m. and I’m at the backside of the park. And there he is again, on the other side of the cove, his headlights on, high beams no less. A-hole sits in his car, doing Something, God knows what. And his f*cking lights have to be on marring the landscape with an ugly coating of man-made light across the shoreline and the inlet. This A-hole is parked right here about 50% of the time, headlights always on. He apparently has his morning ritual as well.
I’ve taken to walking directly into the light, right up to the water’s edge. I swing my camera over my shoulder to free up both hands, and give him a 1-finger salute with both hands, and shout out “hey a**hole.”
I’m a pacifist, with violent mood swings and anger management issues. Untameable. The mind drifts. I shift the shoulder-fired rocket launcher, setting it comfortably on my shoulder, uncock the safety catch, peer through the sights and let the heat guided missile find its target, a thin line of smoke trailing behind…
It’s cold. I’m tired. I’m irritable. I have no 4-legged friend joining me, Wally, is fast asleep. Continue reading “Walking. With Headlights. (Lightly Child, Lightly)”
