R.S. Evangelista

I’ve been waiting for you
at every corner,
through every outside door
and into night,
there I hope you’ll be.

And I vaguely remember
your subtleties,
your brisk cool,
your calm thoughtful moving motion.
You bring time’s elapsing moments
and the slowness of aging realization.
Future comes through the same
outside doors you own.

When I focus,
I see the decaying notion of
life in true perspective;
Falling.

Isn’t that what I’m doing anyways?
Falling in and out of time and season.
I am always dying and being reborn.
You help me see clearly,
like the city shedding leaves,
learning her bareness
before beaconing towards light yet again.

The wind will rustle.
Age will come,
and color will transcend.

And I’ve been waiting for you
in my burnt skin.
I need a layer of your truth once more
to see life as it is;
Bare and rustic
with fullness
even as time continues to tick me forward.
I’m better off clothed in your coldness
than baking in the sun.

Autumn, Send your harvest love.
Show me who I am.
Carry me with your fallen leaves.
And when you’re surrounding me,
when you’re all around me,
when you hold me in your brown and gold hands,
may the harvest come,
and I know I’ll be home once again.

It was just a couple of weeks ago that I surpassed the 5000 mile marker on the scooter, and before I let this moment slip by, I pulled off Ponce De Leon just long enough to take a photo with my phone. It’s documented and recorded, at least for now. It’s been a little over a year since I started driving the Buddy 50cc that gets me around. As it turns out, most of my driving has happened between East Atlanta and the Virginia Highlands. More frequently I’ve found myself on North or Peachtree getting to and from Trinity on the northwest side of town. I have noticed that I am proud of these streets that I ride upon day in and day out. And everywhere I tread, I feel more like they are mine. Maybe that’s why I get so frustrated that the light system in the city is so inefficient and untimely. It’s as if I am guilty for not doing anything about it. I took pride in my street being repaved last week, as if my hands were part of the endeavor.

As I near my 24th birthday, I am beginning to wonder if I have adequately soaked up the fullness of this past year of life. Where am I? and where am I going? I like my job, and my scooter and my streets. I like the coming of coolness close at hand. And every chance I get I find my way to my favorite view in town. Is there a better place to stand than from the fourteenth floor balcony of Juniper and 12th?

I love the watch on my wrist and the rings on my hands. For I know where they came from and why they are there. I wear jeans with holes in them. I have a soft stain on my teeth. I can yet to grow a beard. And the people I love are all the same. We are busy and free. We are honest and private. We are better seen from the view of another. And in all of this, I desire and wish that I could just see myself as I am. And I would love it if I could take a four dimensional snap shot and hand it to a friend. And then maybe in 2030 they can show it to me again, maybe as a gift. Wouldn’t that be swell, all wrapped up in 2009 ribbons from where I stand.

It would be more than just a glimpse or a photograph. It would be more than an image in front of me moving and speaking and being. It would encapsulate my essence, like a veil as it’s lifted. And I could see the development of my soul, God-willing; a loving, caring, full me. I believe that what once was, is, and will ever be. So would I just be seeing me again? just less complete?

When I look at Atlanta and the faces I see, I am trying to catch four dimensional beings. But I’m all wrapped up in me. And when I unravel the truth of the matter, my memories will fade. I will lose photos. I will clean my teeth and grow a bushy beard. And even though the city might change, it will still be Atlanta with or without me. And it will be full of four dimensional beings. I just hope I’m selfless enough to see.