Another Spring

The seasons revolve and the years change
With no assistance or supervision.
The moon, without taking thought,
Moves in its cycle, full, crescent, and full.

The white moon enters the heart of the river;
The air is drugged with azalea blossoms;
Deep in the night a pine cone falls;
Our campfire dies out in the empty mountains.

The sharp stars flicker in the tremulous branches;
The lake is black, bottomless in the crystalline night;
High in the sky the Northern Crown
Is cut in half by the dim summit of a snow peak.

O heart, heart, so singularly
Intransigent and corruptible,
Here we lie entranced by the starlit waters,
And moments that should each last forever

Slide unconsciously by us like water.


-- Kenneth Rexroth

The Bounty Hunters

Returning from the grocery store, three blocks from home, two cars pulled up and stopped quickly in front of an apartment building across from the Walker Methodist Nursing Home. Approximately eight men and women in blue t-shirts scrambled out.

The first guy out was was carrying a full sized automatic rifle. He was a young guy, looking looking like a fully armed Maynard G. Krebs. All the other blue t-shirts had shoulder or waist arms.

Their t-shirts said U.S. Recovery Team or Fugitive Recovery. I have seen SWAT teams in action but this was no SWAT team. SWAT teams have organization and a plan. These blue t-shirts were more like the Keystone Cops.

One guy was huge, way overweight. Another guy was skinny, had long stringy gray hair and thick white beard. I was wondering if this was a birthday joke about to go horribly wrong.

When I got home I did a Google search and came to the conclusion that the blue t-shirts were private bounty hunters/bail recovery agents.

Wikipedia says only two countries in the world allow commercial bounty hunting, the U.S. and Philippines. Whatda country!

I drove by again on the way to pick up the kids. The motley crew of bounty hunters was out in front of the apartment building, several were smoking cigarettes.

I picked up Jack and Lucy and described the bounty hunters. Jack was very excited. He insisted that the fat guy and the old bearded guy were in disguise. "That's how they do it Dad." Underneath the disguises dwelled really honed muscle guys.

I'd have to say, those were very clever disguises indeed.

The bounty hunters were still out when we drove by on our way home. A police car and a couple cops were now present making the scene seem a bit more legit.

I wish I could have taken a picture of those dingleberry bounty hunters, but I really didn't want to get shot a million times.

I also wish I had an ending to this story, but I have no idea what happened next.

All I can say for sure is that I now want to grow me a mullet and become a bounty hunter.