at night’s end

it’s so easy to come home

and pretend nothing has changed

to smile and laugh

to play my silly games

cause you can’t see I’m breaking

ripping at the seams

screaming to share the truth

uncertain what it all means

I know you won’t understand

these things I need to say

you’ll think me foolish or crazy

or worse just walk away

so smile I will continue

silently will plead

laugh and play until night’s end

when finally I’ll be free

Waves of Narcolepsy: Vignette 1

He awoke today from a narcolepsy slide and followed his feet to the sandy shoreline, the same waves and salty sea he has gazed into since he was five, a lifetime of memories ago.

He sits at a wooden picnic table overlooking the ocean, his gray hair pulled into a loose ponytail. He bounces between subjects like an ADD child, chatty and friendly, all tied to a song and photo.

In the midst of conversation he remembers something and retreats for a moment into a distant time. Northern Lights by Lux. Look it up when you get home,” he says, “Lux. L-U-X. Amazing music. It was playing this morning. So appropriate.” Just like that he retreats again. Softly he tells how Northern Lights reminds him of his mother no longer with him.

He is a photographer, retired, and sitting on this wobbly, weathered bench has been his hobby as of late. Today is a beautiful day, a perfect day at the beach that he loves. Ukraine is a beautiful country too, but his favorite place in the world is Denver, Colorado in the fall.

“Breathtaking clouds that seem to go on forever and the most amazing colors you will ever see,” he recalls with a twinkle in his eyes. “Oh if you ever get to go to Denver in the fall you really must!”

The conversation ping-pongs through a few more rounds, states and countries. His friendly demeanor takes on a seriousness. “Live every moment,” he says, “There are a lot of moments in life you will never get back.”

With that the amicable, yet tortured artist, bids adieu, taking his camera and song, following his feet back to the sandy shore that continues to whisper his name and captivate his gaze.


“My life is like a stroll on the beach…as near to the edge as I can go.”

–Thoreau