aproximation

I stood atop my favorite parking structure again today. Winds here blew at what I would guess to be thirty to fourty miles per hour. Poorly constructed sheet metal tops of buildings were blowing off of neighboring structures, but all I could watch were the two pigeons straining aginst the wind struggling to gain one hundred feet, only to bank and zip by and loose in a second all that they had worked so hard for three minuets to gain. It was a joyful loss, and it made me envious.

I drank my caffiene and stood at an angle aginst the wind with my eyes closed, trying to guess the next gusts direction and strength; trying to just react without thinking. Following the lead of the pigeons who darted between powerlines and tree limbs using the variablity and a hint of where to move next, rather then a hinderance to there pre-decided course.

Though my iPod was blaring everything from Aphex Twin to Mouse on Mars to u-Ziq into my ears, and the wind was howling across my jacket and whipping through my sunglasses, all I could hear was the humm of the sun on my face, and all I could feel was the cool lick of the wind as it tempered the suns rays. I tried to will myself not only to lift off of the ground, but to become part of the wind and simply disolve into the surging gale; to become one of the fleeting stratus clouds all streamlined and slick in the bright blue sky.