Established Marvel : a Monk by Abbreviation

35. I PROBABLY CAN’T

I probably can't turn this back on you but I will try - you being Everyman the Reader : Whomever - but I will begin to make the attempt to the utmost while walking some morning street and thinking about everything I pass - the walloping fling of the fat man rushing by the tall cool mist of the girl across the street still airy and wet the rattling crib of the deliveryman entering the bread store the cafe owner setting out tables the guy with the bicycle with his child on the back bike-seat each one of them part and parcel of the scene before me - something with integrity perhaps but for certain something genuine and real or as real as anything else can be : meanwhile the train rattles by keeping to some form of schedule I don't know of the pigeons seem to flutter and swoop flutter and swoop and flutter and swoop again - each sound or movement moves them - and their singular take on life seems boring as I watch and the graveyard near the tracks - inglorious and almost obscenely violated by rails and stairways and people - which sends forth its own air of death and the past with monuments and marble and stones two hundred years old if a day YET silent and mute as ever too AND no one notices nor seems to care - so frothingly on their way as everyone is to SOMETHING else and other than this but NO MATTER for now it is ALL my little picture here my very own vignette my manner my speaking my mosaic my quilt - whichever you call it - and moving lines strike moving circles strike vivid forms of tableaux as everything moves about and withers and passes and dies and all along the way not a sound nor a song is heard - just the slow passion of everyday life the slow ending of living and strife the capped moment the crowned glory the highest pinnacle ever of something that ever once was OH! something that ever once was.