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Once Jerry Seinfeld came to Helena, Montana,population 30,000.
“How do you stand the excitement?” he said.
Everybody laughed.
Here, the Morning Light coffee shop,
there the park,
and everywhere the local teenagers, being attractivelybored in a place with nothing to do.
But I can remember one night, burning in the darkness
of my memory,
adrift
somewhere in those early summer months.
At Hill Park, like always, a Frisbee
sailing through the air
distracting us from the empty space
that lay around us.
But something in that light.
That shimmering, blue twilight of the summer, the unexpected lateness of the day, the sun’s lingering descentthat seeped
into the airand our thoughts
lending energy to an otherwise dull game.
The claustrophobia of our hometown vanished
into the air,
into the half-light that had settled over all of us,
and we knew that what we did that night wasn’t important,
and we loved knowing it.
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