another day actively being active.

Tonight a family of opossums.

Epsilon and I walk up the same always street under the same always vague orange light. There is the sound of car traffic streets away from us. The chatter of occasional dog bark and then nothing. The wind in the trees. The kinds of things that make sound but you never register them in your brain after making a permanent place for them somewhere to be forgotten about.

Crossing the street looking down it in the dull orange spotlight a large opossum stands up with its muzzle facing me. Three smaller tykes surround it, eager for a show perhaps. A spectacle. I stand in the street facing them watching their deep black silhouettes keeping still against the light and Epsilon, impatiently, is trotting up the sidewalk. He is smelling grass and I look at him and wonders why he hasn't seen the family and look back just in time to see the leader of this pack, a mother perhaps, a father; lowering itself and the children at this motion moving on out of the light. Fellow travelers of the night disappearing between moments of fading electricity.

I consider safety in numbers. Pack mentality. Wonder if I've ever had it or ever would. The security of knowing we all look after one another. That loving is synonymous with survival and that to be loved one must love. Be willing to. Able.

The most significant things that happen to me during the day often seem to be the most recent ones. Must stretch this memory machine and make it work for me again. In a habit of missing too many things between cracks and synapses. Storm clouds of electrical pops zapping all the important thoughts in here. Forcible eviction.