Harnett-Hargrove

Movement.

i sit by the fireplace as it flickers highlight + shadow w/ inspirational scenes.

Dana + i had walked to the tip of south Manhattan. Our heads hanging over the cement pier so all we could see is the choppy water as it sparkles as fallen stars. Then, shifts into an animation birds flying upward. This transforms into feathers sifting downward, fitting together in that complicated Escher-like geometric way. i get dizzy + look up to the horizon in time to se the Circle Line Ferry way off turning into the sunlight. The glittering sun hits each flat square pane of glass, sparking a flash, one after another in a kick line routine. As though each passenger were twinkling a bright idea.

Drivers travel on the expressway in the northeast, hi-way in the south, freeway on the west coast.
Riding in a car as a chain of thought.

The crew sat in the back of a Hong Kong taxi. This was 1996. One of us asked, What do you think about the hand-over?

It got real quiet + the cabbie looked around for a hidden mic. i leaned over the front seat and kidded, Hand over, what hand over? Later i realized w/ limited english, he may have thought we were attempting to rob him.

One late afternoon as i dropped letters into a mail box, three nuns in a Rambler stopped by to ask if i was a post man.

Burl Ives drove by in a green VW today. He didn’t look very happy stuffed in there like he was, so i didn’t try to brighten his day by waving hello. It’s great when i see folks that aren’t around any more.

Car memory of college student genré. I'd see them, eight or ten stuffed into a rusty Duster barreling south bound on thirty-eight toward Daytona Beach on spring break. I reckon I was waiting for the day I’d be one of them. By the time I hit graduation age I couldn’t have been farther from their reality.