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Bye Bye Birdie / Into the Mystic by Susan Perly

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  • Dear Cowbirders,

    We came to say hello. We were present to each other. That present was a gift. The future came roaring or crawling; changes came, as changes do. We took pics, we showed our lives, our landscapes, our hearts, our art, vehicles, visions, dreams; we had some yuks.

    Spammers and trolls, there were a few. We wintered in, summered, we sprang in spring open-hearted to each other, and we knew, we always knew, that spring was so joyous, so short. We felt the sense of community. I know I did. We'd been around, seen some things, we had abided in our hours, we had shovelled snow and other stuff, we tried to be civil with snivellers, to advise, be wise, maybe crack wise, bytimes, to find online a way to pass the off-hours. We should not lament.

    Nothing was meant to be forever. Or even a cosmic day. We could be in a short Venus crossing, or in a planetary orbit in which a day is a year in some other solar system. We might have only known each other a few hours, by some other sonic lights.

    We might have just met, and said hello, yesterday, though my calendar claims it has been for me (as of next week) five years. We might be starlight, a blink.

    Just a little throat pang, as the curtain gets ready to close...
    ...as we soon gather our coats and bags, to leave...

    (Photo of me, Susan, February 3, 2017, in Toronto, outside the AGO [Art Gallery of Ontario])
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