kool-aid orange bandit

that's what i named the seagull flying overhead
with a round orange orange in his beak ~

walking the myrtle edwards trail yesterday..
the jodphurs of mt. rainier showing..
the air fresh and warming, warming
as the sun kept on coming, coming
a homeless person had snuggled up under a tree..
all cozy and wrapped in a bright blue sleeping bag..
three oranges lay in waiting for the wake-up call..
snestled nearby..

on my return route..
the above said seagull flew
clumsy-like..top heavy..
above me with a full fledged orange
encircled by his too small beak..
plop!
he dropped it atop the stopped train ..
and commenced ice-picking his way
into the deep, juicy center of citrus..

hummmm?
i wondered..
does the sleepy head
still have three spheres
parked nearby?

no way, jose..
the stealth wing-ed thief
got away with it..


this much i do remember

it was after dinner.
you were talking to me across the table
about something or other,
a greyhound you had seen that day
or a song you liked,

and i was looking past you
over your bare shoulder
at the three oranges lying
on the kitchen counter
next to the small electric bean grinder,
which was also orange,
and the orange and white cruets for vinegar and oil.

all of which converged
into a random still life,
so fastened together by the hasp of color,
and so fixed behind the animated
foreground of your
talking and smiling,
gesturing and pouring wine,
and the camber of you shoulders

that i could feel it being painted within me,
brushed on the wall of my skull,
while the tone of your voice
lifted and fell in its flight,
and the three oranges
remained fixed on the counter
the way that stars are said
to be fixed in the universe.

then all of the moments of the past
began to line up behind that moment
and all of the moments to come
assembled in front of it in a long row,
giving me reason to believe
that this was a moment i had rescued
from millions that rush out of sight
into a darkness behind the eyes.

even after i have forgotten what year it is,
my middle name,
and the meaning of money,
i will still carry in my pocket
the small coin of that moment,
minted in the kingdom
that we pace through every day.

- billy collins