Poking along, lost in my own thoughts, enjoying the summer heat, riding my bike on the lakefront trail, as I passed the picnic area the walnut sized segment of my brain resting on my spinal column sensed danger.
Two assassins approached over my left shoulder (where death does appear according to Don Juan), and I received a perfect head shot and a lower blast in the abdomen, an insurance shot.
The weapon of choice wasn't a .38. The first thing I thought happened is I was hit with that snowball made in January, kept in the freezer for the hottest day of the year. Upon taking my sunglasses off, the yoke was on me and the angry youth had sped away, as if I was going to harm them.
This act of indiscriminate violence performed against me put all my training or study of the emotional into an instant test. I didn't do so well at first, even bringing up thoughts of getting a gun and shooting these punks (how to find them didn't matter at the moment). It made me speak unkindly to quite a few along the way home and it brought up the old bugaboo of racism, being as I see it a victim of it this time.
Couple miles down was a beach and I washed off and sat quietly for a while. I was telling myself not to relay their anger, but I may have been secretly wishing they had ridden farther away and I didn't want to run into them again on the way home. It's true, I didn't want it to consume me with anger. I have to live life without carrying a piece in my bike bag. I go this way often, now how will I cope in the future?
Cosmically, this episode may be another type of kick in the head. A signal to get my ass in gear and do something. I could take it as sign from the gods, a not-so-subtle message to wake up to my life. A return to the hockey dictum "Keep your head up", so to speak. Focus.
Back to earth, it is an indication of a Long Hot Summer in an urban center of uncertainty.
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