You can’t get there from here.
Not unless you go to forty second and take the shuttle.
I’m willing to do that. I’m willing to go all the way. Get out of town. Something else is happening. Somewhere else.
This time its organic. No artificial monopoly board confines and structure. No straight edges, right angles, sidewalks, parallel lines, lanes and alleys, blocks and buildings, concrete, steel, glass, manhole covers made of iron. Phone box here. Soda shop there. Meet me at the yellow square. The blue square, the red square. No longer there. Hop Scotch with Shirley Temple, marbles with Andy Rooney, jacks and jump rope, double dutch with the Little Rascals. Step on a crack and you break your mother’s back. Lucky Strike! Can’t hit back! I’d walk a mile for a Camel. Those days are long gone. We aren’t dancing downtown anymore with Tommy Dorsey.
Nowadays, I’m out in the open, breathing organic abstracts. Chinese Checkers instead of dominos. Kites instead of comic books. Curves and spheres, sunshine, smoke, mud puddles, protozoa, amoeba, plankton, flesh and blood, synapses, solar systems, nerve endings, nests, umbilical cords. Choices, decisions. Pathways through the forest, through day and night, through up and down, through life.
It’s always good to have a map.