Screenshot 2023-04-26 at 7.04.48 PM

The Red Light Reflected atop Roblin Lake D.A. Lockhart At night the peeperscome on strong and the red light above Roblin reflects as if a fresh blood drop on sheer water. Groans from behind the distant tree line follows the patrol of military transports. This night rests upon this sweet water playback of a Drizzy track pushed quietly over a Koreatown side street. Calm. Low love vibrations. Conceive of the right bars to hum, drop your lines upon silence. Whisper a percolating thanks into the night, loft them up to all thirteen heavens, pray that they rain down neon rays of stars we cannot yet decipher from background noise. Al, did you too peer into the sky and dream of the places you've been and have never wanted to let go of? How this life is a matter of adventure rather than pleasing others. Consider the scent of a lifetime of books, the weight of dust from Gibson Road settling upon mowed lawns, dying ash trees, sprouted tulips. Let us walk out to the mailbox, the wail of bagpipes behind us, toothpick clenched between grinding bicuspids. Against a lake that I serenade with Ovo tracks. Hold on, hold on. How two very different men can come to find solace, medicine in a hilltop lake and a single red light burning rather shimmering into night.