The Elephant and Butter

Was down at the skate park today with some seltzer (plain), a granola bar (honeyed something) and poetry (Inger Christensen). People inhabit time differently at the skate park. There's a lot of rolling back and forth. Lots of pauses. Feats get repeated over and over again, but can be abandoned entirely at any given moment. Plenty of insouciance. No haste. Minimal communication. Things happen until they don't. This time, I saw a couple in their thirties with a newborn. The father (above) would ride his freestyle bike in the bowl for a while, do some tricks, then jump out and hold his baby so the mother could ride her skateboard in the bowl. One time she skated around, popped out, breastfed her baby, then put her helmet and pads back on and plunged right back into skating. Me, I read my poetry in a very daring fashion -- no pads, no helmet. Freestyle. I nearly snapped a tendon. Of the mind.