6/21/08    3:41am

Other than seeing a policeman pull over a lady in a wheelchair and only a wheelchair on a desolate highway at 3am this night was fairly uneventful.

A night at the Wynnewood bar with too many toos, too many beers, too many cigarettes, too old to still be living like this.

Well uneventful until we passed the Paoli Cemetery in a perpendicular manor.

A field of stone that housed my ancestors all of them perfectly spaced and planted to await there physical resurrection and the second coming.

Where by order of the full moon, and the assistance of the exterior lights, our passing reflection was cast in all of that solemnly polished granite.

It was abstracted yet still discernable

We were reflecting their death and literal representation of mortality, and they our life and refusal to acknowledge such a notion.

For that very brief, strange, and beautiful moment, the living and the dead reached across that eerie threshold, and acknowledged each other with indifference.