Words

i worked oxyacetylene last night. cut scrap metal. didn't matter. i got the same rush. it is closer to working with glass than MIG. but then again, with MiG I was welding and last night, I was cutting.

watching thick solid sturdy dependable strong immovable slowly brighten.

lightly it glows a star field glistens in the surface.

wait for it to sparkle. wait. patience.

then push.

waiting is so important. waiting for the shooting stars. that magical moment between the moments. that place when she's finally ready. hot, bothered, falling apart at the edges.

bubbling.

ready to open.

if i don't push now, if i wait or just steady on, the metal won't cut. it will change, sure. change and change again... though it won't move on. it stays part of former self. melting. edges rough and middle weakened

knock it off with a hammer later.

knowing when to push forward. waiting for just the right place, the right time. can't hear anything else. can't see anything else. goggles down create a singular focus.

it's sparking now. that golden field of stars shoots across the bench, through my field of vision, out of the way, in the way. it's everywhere. begging. a beginning. now or never. going back over one's steps, it kind of works, but never quite like cutting butter.

there's a bead leading the way. just keep pushing it. forward. steady. heat the road ahead. prepare for more change.

press the lever - give her a blow. gentle. steady. don't go too fast. don't go too slow either. there will be fatigue. keep the angle. keep the technique. this lady likes movement, but loves consistency.

there's more to this view than the immediate nature. i'm watching this red hot roll gently along. lost in the reverie, complete in the moment. blowing. pushing. melting. pushing. a night sky filled with firework on an early afternoon.

ten inches of steel fall to the floor. i'm out. she's done.