Posted by zen bastard on 12/28/2006, 8:44 am i wasn’t called up to witness. but if i had i wouldn’t have scene 61 it’s a cold, loveless world. but that’s just my heart talking. scene 62 a broken toy is wrapped in cellophane & pawned off as just i didn’t lose my head. i deliberately left it behind where scene 64 a voice i don’t recognize means bad news 75% of the time. we slid quietly into the water because technically we were
65.167.39.180
scene 60
ratted anyone out. i would have sworn i saw nothing. maybe
they thought they had enough evidence. or maybe i got lost
in the shuffle. it wouldn’t have mattered what they offered me.
i was twisted clean out of everything but eternity. i would
have looked them straight in the eye. that would have done
it. they’d have been too intimidated to continue. the judge
would have waved me right through. i could see immediately
that the jury was rigged. even though they tried to mix it up.
but it didn’t fool me for a second. i wore death on one
sleeve & the other was half lit-up with the rest of the world.
i wasn’t implicated because no one saw me. i’d fade in
& fade out. i learned that as a child. it’s served me well. like
another language, strange & confusing, yet with a local
accent. i ascend & descent. i’m mistaken for a religious icon.
i always use plenty of chrome.
if you were to pin all of me down i might have to elaborate.
but that’s all for now. if you stuffed my mouth with cotton
it might sugar-coat it a bit. i admit to feeling sorry for myself.
i never denied it. but that doesn’t mean i’ll spring for an
amusement tax. because i wasn’t entertained. i didn’t swallow
a single laugh or have to quickly wipe away a tear. i wasn’t
intoxicated. i was humbled. that’s a hundred eighty degrees.
i did spit out shrapnel & sequins. i squeezed razors in my
hand until the blood trickled down & spelled a name
that remains a mystery to me. but it gave me hope. something
i’d been lacking for some time. there’s no way of knowing
how long it might last. there’s no way to predict i’ll ever
find the face to match it. i don’t need an attitude adjustment.
i need to keep moving. it’s not about to come to me.
what you always wanted. what do they take me for—a dumb
kid? mirrors cling to whatever is set before them. making no
judgments. telling it like it is. glass is about half right &
twice as dangerous. i suppose this could be a test, to see
how we’d react in the event of the real thing. but i’m not
letting myself get mucked up in all those possibilities right
now. i have to stay limber & loose. there’s no telling when
i’ll have to make my move. i can’t get tangled in wishes or
semantics. i can’t get caught between twinkling starlight &
stifled yawns. i can’t be left hanging where they can swing
me around to their point of view. i’m not that flexible. that is,
psychologically or emotionally. but physically i think i
could give an scarecrow a run for his money. that is what
they stick inside them isn’t it. after all, it’s good enough
for exotic dancers. i didn’t give myself away. i simply smiled
& said thank you.
scene 63
no one would look. & in case somebody did stumble upon
it, i carved it up good first. like a rotten melon oozing a
rancid dialogue. no one would touch that. they wouldn’t get
close enough. so there’s no way i’d be recognized. i’d
bet my life on it. hell, i’ve already bet my life on it. there’s
no room left for me here. it’s too crowded with mercenary
hearts & unfaithful lovers waiting for something better. it’s
stained with not only the blood of the lamb, but anything not
wise enough to be suspicious. & are all those beat-up
pinwheels really necessary any more. did they ever beef
up the flesh trade like they advertised? i’m afraid i find that
hard to believe. alright—maybe a small percentage, but
certainly not most of my troubles.
the other 25% is simply a nuisance. a voice i do recognize
means much the same with about 5% knocked off for few
that care. though most use my cell number as do my daughters,
so when my cell plays that innocuous pre-programmed melody
it doesn’t leave me up in the air trying to decide whether to
pick up & usually stops before i can make up my mind. it’s
then that i notice my heart rate has increased. i’ve never
figured out why i have this reaction. yes, i’ve received
disturbing news via the phone line in the past. but who hasn’t.
i keep the land phone, though the ringer’s off much of the time,
because i have yet to move to high speed. i can finally afford
it. i used to tell people to ring once & hang up. apparently
no one could remember this. i can predict about 50% of the
time who’s calling by the hour of day or night. the odds may
even be higher if i picked up the phone more.
scene 65
trespassing. dressed only in moonlight & a buzzed glow. it
began to gently rain. diamonds rising & disappearing as fast.
sparks on black velvet. she has beautiful emerald eyes. love
didn’t show me this. no one could miss them. swimming in
the rain is different. it feels unnecessary. i love that feeling.
as we grow older, more & more things become necessary.
we laid on the shore, the water lapping at our legs, sharing
our second or third bottle of wine but who was counting.
passing it back & forth with crazy grins. she never wiped
the top off like some do. she seemed as unconcerned
with the world as i was. i was completely at ease in her
company. she said she was getting out for a second to
grab her cigarettes. her silhouette as picture perfect as
any schoolboy glossy. we both smoked marlboros. she
would put two in her mouth & light them, then hand one
to me. no other woman ever did that.
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