9:25 a.m. 6/23/86

In which an old journal entry is transformed into some bad poetry. And this probably won't be the last time this happens.

9:25 a.m. 6/23/86

Birds have eyes on either side of their head

What do they see.

Fish are the same way.

I wonder what it feels like to be a jellyfish.

Do jellyfish know that they are jellyfish?

How self-aware are jellyfish?

Actually, most animals have eyes that aren’t like human eyes.

Do they see two different images at once?

I’m supposed to be learning about QUEST,

which is sort of the ELECT for Math classes here at Temple.

Instead, I find myself thinking about

birds and cows and jellyfish and

anything but Math at Temple.

-----

Suddenly, it’s nearly 36 years later.

I’m sitting in a West Conshohocken cubicle

waiting to pick up my 19-year-old son

at the train station

And now that you mention it,

I’m still wondering about things.

Like, for real:

what does it feel like to be a jellyfish?

And what do birds and fish see,

what with their eyes being on either side of their head?

It can’t be vision as us humans know it, right?

What exactly was QUEST?

And just how much did I need to know about it

on that June morning in 1986?

And did I drink cold lemon tea

from the Chinese lunch truck that day?

Mostly though, I am wondering

Where did 36 years go?

~217~