It’s 8.37. It’s always 8.37. We are synced by external schedules to share the dirt pathway. The little lad with the spikes on his head. A Brunswick Cool bike helmet taken down a peg or two with the red slash of a mohawk jutting up. And the fact that when its owner gets to the road he diligently dismounts, looks right, looks left, looks to his right again. And then repeats so that he can get to the side of the road that gets him to the lollypop crossing that takes him to school. I can’t help but think that he and his grown-up made the journey towards the end of the summertime, agreed the approach. And in this, the first week of school, he is still diligently following the rules. And I wonder how long the rebellious helmet will hold for this?
Stardust Becoming 