The Apple Store is directly next door to the yoga store where an absolutely horrific murder, attempted murder, double rape occurred last Friday night. I knew this in the back of my head, but remembered when I rounded the corner from Goodyear and saw, on both sides of Bethesda Ave, those trucks television stations have that beam live footage to the local affiliates. Hardly anyone was standing around, I thought they were done doing whatever. I looked at the flowers stacked on the sidewalk against the yoga store's doors and windows, thought, I hope they catch the motherfuckers who did this, then entered the Apple store and played with an iPad for half an hour.
When I left the Apple Store the block was full of cameramen, producers, microphone holders, and familiar faces to DC local news viewers, including the fool sent out during snowstorms with the yardstick. Everyone was silent, focused (literally) on a man and a woman grieving, crying, consoling, hugging, in front of the stack of flowers in front of the store. I watched for five minutes, then, walking large and wide around any camera angle, went to Barnes and Noble where I again couldn't find anything to burn a Giftmas gift card on.
After ten minutes I thought, why the fuck didn't I take photos - since the experience had started percolating in my head - and headed out into... show over. The huggers, the reporters, the crowd watching both were gone. Trucks were winding-in their satellite dishes, the sappers were re-spooling cables.
I don't mean to suggest anything other than I haven't stopped thinking about the incident since. I can't imagine synthesizing all the multiple and refractory meanings since new ones occur to me as I type this sentence. All I know: when I dropped my car off, got the estimate of $350 dollars, and walked out of Goodyear to kill time, I'd never have bet I'd been blessed with the serendipity of driving into a puddle of nails.
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- Monogold. Start with Glo to Sleep.
GREAT SLEEPS I HAVE KNOWN
Once in a cradle in Norway folded like Odin's eight-legged horse Sleipnir as a ship in full sail transported the dead to Valhalla Once on a mountain in Taos after making love in my thirties the decade of turquoise and silver After your brother walked into the Atlantic to scatter your mothers ashes his khakis soaked to the knees his shirtsleeves blowing At the top of the cottage in a thunderstorm once or twice each summer covetous of my solitude Immediately following lunch against circadian rhythms, once in a bunk bed in a dormitory in the White Mountains Once in a hollow tree in Wyoming A snow squall blew in the guide said tie up your horses The last night in the Katmandu guest house where I saw a bird fly from a monk's mouth a consolidated sleep of East and West Once on a horsehair mattress two feet thick I woke up singing as in the apocryphal story of my birth at Temple University Hospital On the mesa with the burrowing owls on the mesa with the prairie dogs Willing to be lucky I ran the perimeter road in my sleep entrained to the cycles of light and dark Sometimes my dead sister visited my dreams Once on the beach in New Jersey after the turtles deposited their eggs before my parents grew old, nocturnal