Hudson Line Blows

So we go out to this bar
Saturday night sure thing
Down on the west side 
Of the infamous Hudson River
Blonde bombshell with crew
and dark haired mystery woman 
Tapan Zee to the north 
GWB to the south 
Across the river a whistle 
On the Hudson Line blows smoke 
While flying by everyone waves 
As if they are floating on liquid gold 
And I'm feeling lost 
In my old haunting ground
Like I've never been here before 
A stranger in familiar surroundings 
Out of my comfort zone 
Out of my element
A fish out of water
Square peg 
...in a round hole
Oblio  
And it's not a far stretch 
Of the imagination 
Culture shock and reminiscing 
Don't always go hand in hand 
Sipping wine through a straw
Cheap fragrant masculine cologne
Fills the air loud bass beat roll
Burns my senses to the core
Vinny and Frankie commonality 
Thick in the middle as age creeps up 
- but no one seems to notices 
By the time last call fades 
Off into the mist
I don't know where I belong any more 
Stepping out on all sides
Everything feels heavy handed 
Tossing snake eyes coming up double 
Maybe it's a fine time 
To play the hand that has been dealt 
And fade off into the horizon 
On a fast sailing vessel 
...Hells Gate with out warning

© 2015 TrilbyYates

...just hanging around hat in hand daze, wind blows a chill to the bone with a cup of java just waiting to be sipped ever so slowly...warmth seeps through the palms of my hands.

Black and white, color Kodachrome sugar coated thoughts pop in and out of the 3rd eye of the mind just roll on and on with complete random and transcendental imagery. Example:...tucked away in a dark shadowy corner - a crackling muted long drawn out hissing sound seeps from under not so green wet wood, amber's glowing with an intense hot white fiery burn - golden sparks flying from a fireplace that once held the heart and kept the soul pure until the slate cracked - a turning point and the end of that particular novella. Life shifts and plan B is set in motion.

Bouncing back and forth from one memory to the next, weaving a tapestry of tales spun together with word and song - precious detail and no lack for luster - One late fall evening sitting in a dimly lit French bar in a sweet part of the city, staircase wrapped up into the ceiling getting lost in the night sky, with twinkling starlight and distant clouds...couldn't help but notice how blue your eyes were...leaning in several times, a touch of the hand, head tilted back with laughter pouring from lips as wine is savored, stories told and the slight hesitation confirmed an attraction...you hide under your hat and I take cover between the lines - the written word is a protective cloak and you instinctively keep the beat...one never knows what the future may hold...a surprise party we've all been invited to, like it or not...

(transcendental [ˌtrænsɛnˈdɛntəl]
1. transcendent, superior, or surpassing
2. (Philosophy) (in the philosophy of Kant)
a. (of a judgment or logical deduction) being both synthetic and a priori
b. of or relating to knowledge of the presuppositions of thought
3. (Philosophy) Philosophy beyond our experience of phenomena, although not beyond potential knowledge
4. (Christian Religious Writings / Theology) Theol surpassing the natural plane of reality or knowledge; supernatural or mystical

© 2010 Trilby Yates