The Magic and the Mundane

I compulsively pick my at my nails, any cut disturbing the smoothness of skin, noting the stuck places, the grooves within.

I pick at the inconsistency or the constancy of thought and emotions rising to the surface as blemishes on the skin of my physical being, signalling my mortality and the magic and mundanity therein.

The magic in my life, any life, to have germinated, divided, mutated quite specifically... to have eyes of this color, hair another, height, weight, width all largely determined by the magic combination of him and her, father and mother, determined, directed then polluted or purified by the magic of a mundane world.

An environment of magic in every moment though seemingly mundane the majority of the time to the human animal who has to pay bills, cook dinner and ride the train to and from work.

Mundane to a red head, blue eye who obsesses with a fictional world within skull and musty gray matter, who picks at the apparent inconsistency or contradicting states of the magical and the mundane, neither state lasting forever, sensing at times it is not either or other, but both and brother, brother and sister, fraternal twins cojoined, twisted at the hip, heads facing different directions, spiralling, gently, wonderfully tame.

A trip to the Safeway, a symphony to the attentive ear - a trip to the casket routine to the undertaker while a profound opening to the son who just lost his father - the trip to Safeway stale and inane to the same son ploughing through the long list of to-do's keeping him from getting to the living somewhere in his future or past where "real" life is, magic life was or will be found, precious life that was/will be inspired and inspiring, life that is not separate from poetry and painting, but is the steady stream of words on page, life paint, drying only slightly less lustrous as when first bled from brush, life bursting with appreciation and wonder, but here I am missing the magic again, running from the mundane, missing that the two are comingled, spiralling, gently standing still to someone half asleep.