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Apr 2015
The Moment
by Ryan P. Kinney

The Japanese girl sits quietly on the pier
Gazing out over the water
Her silence and knowing glance says more
Than either of our languages could ever comprehend
She is beautiful in her hopelessness
And I, dumbstruck in awe of a peace I will never know

She sits behind me squawking with an adolescent banter that must seem dire
Her intensity of voice speaks the same thing I had secretly wished for years, but been too afraid to say
“Please pay attention to me.”
Speak, I did, for the very first time
This awkward message of youthful adoration is not exactly communicated articulately
Her only response is, “God, I hate you. Please shut up.”
If I am already taking risks with my life, then I will not be silenced
For once, I will not back down
“You love me. You just don’t know it yet.”

We are inexplicably sat on the very edge of the river
The smell of Texas BBQ intensifying our hunger
Half of our small group is exhausted proving their technical prowess
When I declare that this most manly of feasts
Must be a competition to prove our testosterone
Why simply dine in San Antonio
When you can challenge your friends to a banquet of sauce laden meats
I declare that he who finishes least or last
Must surrender his manhood
The ***** are on the table this night

I awoke early this morning
And slipped quietly out of my bunk.
My compatriots were still sleeping off a hangover
I push open the door hundreds of years my senior
And witness the burgundy sunset of French wine country
Just think, right now I could be mindlessly staring at rolling machinery

I place another valve on the pump and
WHIRRR...
Hypnotically tighten it down
The sound has become a meditation now
The zen is broken when my radio squeals
The producer has just jumped on the air
“The World Trade Center is on fire.”
I place my wrench slowly down on the table... Confused
We all do.
We all are.
In a half hour we will all be sitting around the table
Listening to Howard Stern speculate on a horror
We are blinded to the true terror, what this really means...
Until hours later.

Snow continues to flood my windshield as I wind precariously around the bespeckled Allegheny’s
The city below, shrouded in the early winter night
Looks as though the heavens have finally released the weight of the stars to the ground
As I marvel at this, a twinge of fear arises
I may not find shelter tonight
Nonetheless, the roads level out and an exit is offered as salvation
In the midst of planned itineraries, sightseeing, and tourist attractions I had lost track of time
I am resigned to sleep the night in a Wal-Mart parking lot
When I pull off the exit, however,
I am pleased to see the welcoming glow of a mall
There I discover an establishment long since lost to the ether of my youth
As I sit there, eating the 10,000 calorie hot dog I ponder,
“This is what life was like when it was simpler, when I thought I knew what it was all about,
Before I was proven horribly wrong.”

In the midst of the audacious and elaborate splendor of Florence
I see a sight a sight so simple
And yet so much more a monument to man’s unfathomable capacity for love and compassion
A rose, brown and dead, is stuck in a chain link fence
Attached to it is a small hand-written note that reads,
“Kiss her now”

I am in her arms
Having been told, “No”
And resigned to rejection so many times
So many times I told myself that this would never happen
As my lips touch hers
I laugh inside my head
“Is this really happening?”
This is really happening

I hold my breathe
I can see him through the window
As I have seen him through the electronic window of my TV for years
As I get closer this feels less and less real
This is my hero
My God
He has accomplished amazing things
And pushed the limits of the human body
Suddenly, I am in front of him
He looks up, and smiles, as he says hello
All the nervousness, the anxiety disappears
When I realize that my God is a man
A man like me

I am terrified
Before me is a discolored, screaming, clawing, misshapen alien creature
My son takes his first breathes of real air
We are all exhausted
His mother looks at me with a look that practically screams,
“We did it.”
I plead, “But, we’re not done doing it yet...
Are we?”
His gurgles turn into cries
And I know...
I know that this,
This is the moment that matters more than any in my life
I will never have a single instant matter anymore than this ever will...

And while I stare into his bed
I hope he proves me wrong.
Ryan P Kinney
Written by
Ryan P Kinney  M/Mentor, OH
(M/Mentor, OH)   
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