Today’s May 24th, my birthday. I don’t know how old
I am. End of spring, is when I was born.

I wanted to be a clown. Now that’s what I am. Big red round nose, white starry eyes, baggy pants full of bright colors, and an always smiling face. An old trailer truck is what takes us traveling, northbound in the summer and southbound in the winter, like a migrating bird. I can’t remember its original color any more, to me it has been slow and rusty since the beginning of time. But today it’s got a new paint, fresh white with colorful strips whirling around its fat body.

May, a word of uncertainty and endless possibilities, is the word of my life. We’re not travelers. Travelers have scenes to see. We wander. Every story is a journey through memories and dreams, of past and future. The lines of lives intertwine and eventually blend into an explosion, as magnificent as the fireworks, brightest flowers blossoming in the deep, black sky. And May, is the time it takes for all the lines to grow long, and buds to gain their fullness.

At night, the sky is endless.