“I’m the guy who gets you out,”
said the well-built man standing outside my sister’s door.
“I just wanted you to see my face,
so you’d know me … should the need arise.”
His eyes scanned the joint quickly,
Instantly calculating all means of entry and egress.
A quick handshake, and he was gone.
You see, my sister was a fun-loving Peace Corps volunteer
Stationed in rural Honduras
In a time before today’s violence, drugs and gangs
No, those were quieter days … but still,
There was The Guy …
… Who Gets You Out…
Presumably in case of a sudden revolutionary movement
Some destabilizing event. A political coup.
Intrigue between nations
The likes of which we’ll never know.
Oh, that Guy, that Guy!
God, how I’ve wanted him in my life!
If only he’d show up on my doorstep
And then I’d know I’d be OK.
He’d be there for me.
He and his operatives,
They’d have a way to know
when things were getting a bit perilous
Watching. Waiting.
Never engaging unless it was a matter of imminent danger.
I’m not proud. I’ll admit
I’ve longed for him to materialize
Those times I’ve been depressed and stressed and anxious
Overloaded, weighted down
Teary, weary, lost.
Out of nowhere, the chopper descends!
And there he is, looking down at me
The Guy Who Gets You Out
I grasp his outstretched hand
And he pulls me Up, Up and Away!
He flies me to a deserted island
To a nicely appointed safe house.
“We saw things were getting out of your control,” he says.
“We knew it was time to act.”
“You’re too important to lose. It’s imperative that you do what only you can do — that you survive.”
“You’re safe now,” he tells me. “Just take some time to recover and then get started.”
“You’ll find everything you need here — food, clothes, toiletries, plenty of paper and pens.”
And then as quickly as he came into my life, he was gone, for now.
The Guy Who Gets You Out.
But he’s done his job well. Mission accomplished.
I feel an ethereal calm, staring at the waves, the tide rolling in.
I contemplate my place in the world
And marvel at how the Powers that Be
Knew just when to catch me
Right before the fall.
It’s a blur now — the chopper, the escape, the chaos we left behind
But his face, his outstretched hand remain forever ingrained in my memory
The tamer of my bedlam
The savior of my spirit
The Guy Who Gets You Out.
Jan 12, 2019
Jan 12, 2019 at 1:47 PM UTC
“I’m the guy who gets you out,”
said the well-built man standing outside my sister’s door.
“I just wanted you to see my face,
so you’d know me … should the need arise.”
His eyes scanned the joint quickly,
Instantly calculating all means of entry and egress.
A quick handshake, and he was gone.
You see, my sister was a fun-loving Peace Corps volunteer
Stationed in rural Honduras
In a time before today’s violence, drugs and gangs
No, those were quieter days … but still,
There was The Guy …
… Who Gets You Out…
Presumably in case of a sudden revolutionary movement
Some destabilizing event. A political coup.
Intrigue between nations
The likes of which we’ll never know.
Oh, that Guy, that Guy!
God, how I’ve wanted him in my life!
If only he’d show up on my doorstep
And then I’d know I’d be OK.
He’d be there for me.
He and his operatives,
They’d have a way to know
when things were getting a bit perilous
Watching. Waiting.
Never engaging unless it was a matter of imminent danger.
I’m not proud. I’ll admit
I’ve longed for him to materialize
Those times I’ve been depressed and stressed and anxious
Overloaded, weighted down
Teary, weary, lost.
Out of nowhere, the chopper descends!
And there he is, looking down at me
The Guy Who Gets You Out
I grasp his outstretched hand
And he pulls me Up, Up and Away!
He flies me to a deserted island
To a nicely appointed safe house.
“We saw things were getting out of your control,” he says.
“We knew it was time to act.”
“You’re too important to lose. It’s imperative that you do what only you can do — that you survive.”
“You’re safe now,” he tells me. “Just take some time to recover and then get started.”
“You’ll find everything you need here — food, clothes, toiletries, plenty of paper and pens.”
And then as quickly as he came into my life, he was gone, for now.
The Guy Who Gets You Out.
But he’s done his job well. Mission accomplished.
I feel an ethereal calm, staring at the waves, the tide rolling in.
I contemplate my place in the world
And marvel at how the Powers that Be
Knew just when to catch me
Right before the fall.
It’s a blur now — the chopper, the escape, the chaos we left behind
But his face, his outstretched hand remain forever ingrained in my memory
The tamer of my bedlam
The savior of my spirit
The Guy Who Gets You Out.