We took a walk through St. James Cemetery yesterday. It was a brilliant, warm afternoon. I have never been to this cemetery. I noted that the cemetery has no new burials. I saw no tombstone with a deceased date in the 21st century. The crowdedness of the graves reminded me just a bit of that cemetery in Paris where Jim Morrison is buried. Pere Lachaise, that's the cemetery.
As we walked along, a military helicopter hovered above. Before we knew it, a shiny black vintage Cadillac with sharp tail fins drove towards us. The driver was a middle-aged man with dark hair. He had a kind of ducktail hairdo. Yah, he could've been straight out of the 40's. We stepped aside to let the car pass. A few steps later, I turned to see it had stopped. I walked a few more steps. I turned again to see if the driver got out. But the car wasn't there any more.
The Man said it must have drove off. But so noiselessly, so suddenly and so fast?
The cemetery is a small one. All paths loop back to the same exit. We could see the exit from where we were. As we made our way towards it, I did not see the Cadillac come around the cemetery. Sure, it could have drove off to another site and stayed there, if you want to be practical about life.
But I don't think so, because I'm going to stick to my interpretation of life through my groovy shades.
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