Imagine, above us, Ouranos

Tonight Jami is writing about the Bridge of Terror - bigger than the Bridge over the River Kwai, Higher than the bridge of San Luis Rey, more fraught with danger than a Bridge Too Far. An action packed, double barreled thrill ride of a roller coaster over a cascade vaulting over the briny deep's salty shallows. Sailine estuary harboring nautical bouyant seas keeled over hauling mast better schooner than yawl think. Last summer when we propelled ourselves over the water on this bridge, I thought to myself, "we're on a metaphor." We were like Theseus vying along the cliff road into Thessaly, confronting the giant Procrustes. We were like Oedipus knotting and knitting out the riddle of the Sphinx. Would we face the Minotaur; were the waters below haven to other animal-human hybrids? And the skies above a domicile to chimera and griffin? On either side of us Scylla and Charybdis? Had we forgotten lamb's blood in order to placate the shades of Hades, where we might inquire of Teiresias, he alone among them having his mind entire? Would bar-b-que from Hog Heaven suffice?
Sing muse the transmission's roaring engine whine
The tread and phalt of asph
The Triumph Spitting fire
Anchises chassis sizzling ceaselessly
The crash clanging craggy waves
Spouting capered whiting ruffian orange
Fluking flounder bottomed surf scuffing
Shore.
O Homer deranged
Ware he'd ear indie
ant elope splay.
And then just as quickly: we were over the bridge and my thoughts returned to normal.
In our rear view mirror the Bridge of Terror flailed its tentacles and banged its masticators in delirium. Its roar flung out after us and I repeated, "who has troubled you Bridge of Terror - No Man that I know. " We made it over with no serious toll upon our senses.

Now I must go to Figgo's and eat. But what: lamb ragu? a salad? something to demonstrate that I am not given wholly to meat eating? Shall I feast on greens like Nebuchadneezer, the roots and flowering of the Earth?

Indeed, the theater seats have been rescued from obscurity and honored with a place in our home. The note I wrote that I republished here actually succeeded in returning them to me. And now they grace our home, waiting for a flat screen TV, where our movies may be displayed and we may eat buckets of pop corn.
Or we may watch the MythsAmerica pageant.

I only wish that we were sitting together tonight, both of us working in Durham and our house sold here in Decatur.
I love her more than words.