Synchronicity

The more uplifiting sequel to Valley City

Synchronicity, my muse, my maiden
Have you b***h-slapped me upside the head?

Today, 11:11, the time prompt appeared on
the tape deck in Jersey Man’s Contour

Prior, the snowplow appeared before us,
flashing its beacons of Hope, even though
Hope was at least fifteen road miles away

Traveling Barnes County 21 all the while
seeing few pillow drifts but bands upon
bands of purity dusting across the aging,
cracking pavement

 

And Jersey Man and I sight the shores of Ashtabula,
but the journey still had to pass Zeno’s paradoxical ratio

We crossed the snake lake twice without much hassle,
but the drunken stepfather called Jack Frost would not relent

Jack Frost is Jack S**t when he’s plastered on Wild Turkey and
taking a power trip instead of a power nap

After the second pass, we were eastbound and down and
the vicious wind had taken on a orthogonal trajectory

The finger drifts becomes pillows with swollen tissue,
like a cyst that needs to be drained and extracted

But the yellow and blue lights of friendship and Hope
came to our rescue, as if by divine appointment or mandate

Eventually we came to the town where the doughboy lived,
and returned on the trajectory that the drunken stepfather had
set to torment the Thirty-Ninth and Fortieth States

 

Progressing on that trajectory at a distance of twenty-two statute miles
and the time prompt appeared before my eyes

 

Above the intersection of Nodak Three-Two and Nodak Three-Eight,
which is three statute miles west of the town like every other,
was another snowplow following a divine appointment or mandate

Safe and sound we arrived at our destination,
and I sat before my computer desk
and I had to crack a smile
and my muse’s sense of humor

11:11 sat before me awaiting to be
put back on the shelf with her friends
so they could have expert conversations
without my presence, as if the Toy Story
scenario was actually plausible

 

In immediate retrospect, the muse Synchronicity
seems to play with my numbered mind devilishly so

From Barnes County 21
to Nodak Two-Six
to Nodak Three-Two to
Nodak Three-Eight

All Nodak values are congruent to two modulo six

The reverse of twenty-one is twelve,
when split by Zeno’s paradoxical ratio, is six

The distance between two-six and three-two is six,
the distance between three-two and three-eight is six

And the number of statute miles from doughboy to destination,
the infamous twenty-two which Jersey Man and I almost found
ourselves caught in, is the sum of the numbers in the time prompt

Synchronicity, you catty dish, are you an angel fulfilling the will of the Lord?

Are you telling me there is a Lord?

If there is a Lord, are you telling me that He loves me?

Who knows, but I passed the town of Hope on the way home,
and I left both Valley Cities behind

Reviews

[Daniel Atkinson]

"Jack Frost is Jack S**t when he’s plastered on Wild Turkey and
taking a power trip instead of a power nap"

Wow... There are so many things about these lines and this poem that I love. You tell amazing stories through your work, and create beautiful images at the same time. Wonderful.