The Modern Leap

The impulse to create conceived in him a cliff, on all sides the leap and hardly the scent of remorse.  His ideas and emotions swell but his palms will not sweat nor shake.  His hair stands on end and the curl of his lip knows all too well why he’s picking up speed.  The ground beneath him twirls as a rock careens off the upturned berm before taking flight.

He’s reminded of the joke where he trips on his third wish and turns into an expletive.

His mind far outpaces his kicking legs and feet and the wind is for some reason in his face.  In his dreams the wind was at his back, but then again in his dreams he could also fly.  At least sometimes he could fly.

His theories and assumptions question experimental philosophy and this is his dissertation up for peer review and editing.  The movement of his body makes him proud for he is still as quick as he can remember.  The distant edge and the rock are already committed to memory and his shoelaces come undone.

Replaying the scene in his mind as he tries to run faster takes the cramping sides to another level.  His eyes squint from the dust and the tears but his momentum carries him forth.

He can almost make out the other side of the cliff but still cannot see all the way down to the bottom.  He imagines pillows of clouds and an outstretched branch from the side just in case.  His arms pump harder and he shifts his weight even further toward his toes.  He can feel his thighs and calves tense as they are getting ready to spring.  His chest heaves outward and his back reaches the vertical plane.

The silent fall is strangely sublime and the thoughts fade.  All that he is and all that he sees is everything that is important.  His imagination has been upstaged and he finally knows the real before it is too late.

*Written to Skeletons by Yeah Yeah Yeahs

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~ by garcialoca on March 17, 2009.

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