Folding time with the edges of fleeting dreams

A few cars here and there, moving ghostly
Slippery fast in the slickness of incipient dawn dew

We’re all racing, until
Up ahead a bright red flash
An urgent calling moment
Two cars want over
In a nasty scary split second of merging blind side panic

A second later
as I pass that same spot
something…a rock?
kicks loud up and around the wheel well

At the same ninety-plus
hearing the sound
I too slow a moment
release the slight pressure of my foot,
tapping the break to my hot face throb
as these palpable chunks of fear rumble through me.

(Erik Thompson-Green contributed this poem.)

Yet if there’s a person in my life who has earned the title, it’s Erik Thompson Green.  By day, Erik is a trusted and time-tested Production Assistant extraordinaire.  He’s got years of experience — far more than most in a role generally seen as a stepping stone on the way to more glamorous, albeit compromising, ones.

Thing is, Erik has an addiction, er…calling.  He loves to tap into the current, or the ether, or whatever it is that sweeps him up in it.  Whether it’s rolling around in the surf, contact juggling, playing his bamboo sax or his cans, or engaging in a number of peculiarly creative pastimes, Erik is all about going for it with his entire being.  And the more kindred spirits who are ready to get in on the fun, the merrier, so long as they’re respectful and conscious of one another.  If you check out a full-moon jam on Miami Beach, chances are you’ll find him there, doing his thing.