It had just snowed as I walked down the driveway to throw the recyclables into the bin, so it was quiet in a way that can only happen with a few inches of sound-dampening powder. The air was crisp and the sky above was enormous.
The sound wasn’t scary, it just took me by surprise because it was out of place. It didn’t belong there.
So I startled and hoped none of the neighbors were peering out their front window to see it.
It was a quick buzzing sound. A crackling of sorts.
Like a fleck of gold hitting the pan.
I want to live, I want to give
An idea for a story.
I’ve been a miner for a heart of gold
The one thing that I’m always on the lookout for. I don’t even know when it started in earnest, but now the only thing that seems to matter is digging around between my ears for something to say. Something to contribute. The twisting, turning, winding, maddening, curving, bending, sinuous, infuriating, undulating, coiling, meandering, serpentine, annoying, zigzagging, convoluted, crazy, spiraling, twisting, circuitous, rambling, muddled, wandering, bizarre, devious, labyrinthine, mazy, torturous wait for something to hit me.
I’ve been to Hollywood, I’ve been to Redwood
I crossed the ocean for a heart of gold
I’ve been in my mind, it’s such a fine line
So I lift the lid, toss in the bottles and cans, a few thumps and rattles breaking the silence, and hurry back inside to write it down, before it escapes. As so many before it. Then after I write it down I reflect on the fact that sometimes it’s best if things escape.
Either way, it’s out.
Keeps me searchin’ for a heart of gold
And I’m getting old
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