Below the Fold

Zero Degree

Set against a backdrop of melting snow...falling in a misty spray from the rafters of all our lofty ambitions. Stepping lightly through glistening drops, catching the inevitable collection on your brow, surrendering to the flow. The floodgates have opened and you got caught out in the open. Given the opportunity, you chose to not take shelter, and now the sun is shining and the warmth is making its presence felt.

Down on Heartbreak Avenue, all the regulars are waiting for a side line...for some break in the action, keeping your place warm -- the collective that keeps collecting at this hour. But you've got a new story to share. Your winter chill has taken a break and what's this?...a spring in your step that distinctly has no place around here, a bit early for this kind of thawing, eh? Yeah, well, that calendar has a way of mixing up the numbers when you're not looking -- reinforcing the recurring lesson to not take anything in this world for granted, especially those things that matter most.

Yeah, you're sitting this round out. You've been churning the debris far too long -- holed up on the shadowed corner, spinning your recycled web, taking an easy way out that never existed. Wishful thinking or foolish hope...or, more accurately, dangerous neglect.

All the songs were written long ago -- part of some larger, baser instinct, the same one that has kept her so close. And all your fabric tearing couldn't keep it from waiting for you. You should have known better. Your wounds stopped healing long ago...you've got the scars to prove it. And truth does not have the patience to indulge your self pity.

There comes a point when your faced with the choice between your final chapter or your grand epic. The great point of no return that you've always been waiting for...with less than equal parts anticipation and dread. Arriving with precious little fanfare -- a lone horn player blowing a midnight sonata against a strong head wind...finishing a cool set before packing it in and heading off to wait in the wings for a time slot at the dream cafe.

And what do we have here? Looking so familiar there on the corner. But not quite as you remember. Maybe its the eyes...is there a shine you never picked up on before? Or it could be the hair...or the smile. Or could it just be you?

Watch your step buddy, you've got more riding on this move than you ever hoped possible.

And the tower strikes the hour. And you patiently wait -- the tolls beating out the time that has passed with no awareness to your approval -- and you prepare for your moment. As best you can.

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