December 21, 2012 has come and gone… the calendar continues, and we break new ground. And with that new ground there is light. Last night I found it in a memory of tigers, Cindy created her own, lighting trees with blossoms and Ashley made plans to become electricity.
I hope you chased the light last night and if not, I hope it found you…
The song on the radio says Do
what you want, as if I knew
a time or a place to get in line
I only want to
take pictures, make plans
with light and be this
in every Christmas window.
We are the oldest people waiting to have our photograph
taken with the white Bengal tiger. Teenagers in front of us
pat the tiger on the back, stroke the strong line of its jaw. But
when it’s our turn, I freeze. The trainer reminds us to rub the back
in just one direction, or like all cats, it will raise a paw to let you know
you’re doing it wrong. I start to sweat. The tiger’s eyes are feverish and
the air in the room smells like meat. You tell me to hurry up, the seal
show starts in less than ten minutes, so I run my hand down the tiger’s
back. Its ears flatten and a sound like distant thunder rolls in
its gut. The trainer tells us it hasn’t made a sound all day. But it speaks
to me. I lick the sweat from my top lip and you laugh and ask me
if it tastes like tiger. Later, when we are watching the seals jump
through their hoops, I grab your hand and say it’s you that I could taste.
The fear of rubbing you the wrong way, salty and raw.