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May 22, 2007 Like a pier, like a palm, like the sun setting when you look at it and it is red as if it were a neon beet. This is what the pipeline was like. It was a pipeline that ran from somewhere under the sand, up by the condominiums, and then came out just before the ocean, and continued into the ocean. You couldn’t tell, of course, how far it went. It could have gone on forever for all anyone knew. But of course it did not go on forever. Nobody around there knew what it was for, or exactly when it appeared there. Someone had designed it, some engineer somewhere, and other people had put it there, which would have taken machinery. You see, it was about three feet in diameter, and as solid as all. Think of the strength and sturdiness you’d think of, if you were to visualize a canon. Perhaps the pipe was more than three feet in diameter. It could have been four feet in diameter. Like a pier, like a palm, like the sun? Yes, because it had become a part of the environment like those things. Let me explain. On paper, such a pipeline would be a monstrosity, right there, in the middle of a semi-paradise. But because of something about the way it was absorbed into the surrounding area, it was fine. There were poles coming out of the top of it, about every seven feet. The poles measured about five feet high. Why the poles were there, nobody knew, but people walked along the pipe, and held onto the poles when they got to them. At first there was more pipe visible, but then there was the water taking over the outside of the pipe. Then the pipe was covered by water. The waves kept coming, for days and weeks and months. That was another forever thing- the waves. The pipe went out forever, or seemed to, and the waves came in forever. The pipe had seaweed around it, and it was as if there was a reef there, though reefs are thought of as running parallel with the shoreline. Small fish were there, moving about, making people wonder about what kinds of fish they were. Then the sand would turn up, and you could not see. The pipeline was a strange thing. The sun hit in different ways. The night hid it. It looked a bit lonely in the overcast afternoon, where it was time to wear a sweater, and the rain rained. Then all the sand would get wet, and seagulls were funny, because they just arrived out of nowhere, out of the clouds. How could a seagull wait in a cloud? It must have been a trick. Seagulls playing tricks. There is an expression, where you say; about something you do, you say, “This is my trick.” It is a light term, but you have to understand, it is serious. It denotes something serious, a craft, a talent, and a dedication. If you think about it too much, you’ll miss it. And its cool. “This is my trick.” Maybe the seagulls, getting scraps of food. That is there trick, not hiding in clouds. That is their trick, their gig, their groove, their way, their knowledge, and their work. Anyhow, the pipeline…it was there. Monet should have seen the pipeline because he painted the same thing in different ways. A writer should write about the pipeline, and only about the pipeline. A writer, if there was such a writer, could dedicate the rest of his days to such a thing. He, or she, could write forever (there is that word again, but the pipeline conjures the ideas of forever and infinity) about the steel structure heading into the ocean. At night you could see it if the moonlight was there, and such a thing is beautiful, when the moon strikes it. That moonlight is soft, and not like sunlight. That moonlight is mysterious and dusty but good dusty. Dusty moonlight,- that is a phrase that should be remembered. Now it is there, the phrase, dusty moonlight. The sun reveals too much, explains things there for all too see. The night is evocative, with its dusty moonlight, and you have to do the rest of the work, and want to. The night is God's. God is in the night. Prior symbolism is not quite right. God is in the good thick dark, by the pipelines and things like it, by the dusty moonlight. God in the dusty moonlight, hanging around the lapping waves, and the wet sand. Someone walks by in a sweater and shorts, or someone does not. It’s all the same. God is overflowing there. Of course nobody thought of it that way, when they saw that pipe. Or maybe someone did. Like a pier, like a palm, like the moon setting. Does the moon set? Birds land on the pipeline. Strange birds, that are from the earth, of course, but seem like otherworldly birds. Shades of night do that. They can make things appear different than what they are. Then you are back to the day again, and people walk along the pipe, and jump off it. The bottoms of feet on the pipe, where the green mossy growth grows. Its all there, the pipeline and its environment, or the environment and its pipeline. The life of things. The pipeline goes out there, out there and out there. Going out there. What is out there, and why go out there? Why the inclination to go out there? It’s in the going. The pipeline. The pipeline goes and goes. You couldn’t discern where it began. Only the engineer or engineers and the installers knew. And how far it went out there was something too. It went far. There was not another like it. It knew about the dusty moonlight, or the dusty moonlight knew it. The pipeline made a place for itself. It was like a pier, like a palm, like so many things. It went out there. That was its trick. “Let me do this,” it would say, if it could talk, “this is my trick.” ------------ Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. 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