Christ The Quandaries
Walking through the hay ticks looking for purchase the sun came slow. The day still cool before the heat the mountains beginning to haze. There would be just enough time to accomplish whatever there was time to accomplish. Rabbits as big as deer hopped across the bordering grass wet with dew. Birds chirped hey its not hot yet, rejoice. Sun coming up the cemetery fence on fire. There is a cement pond to his left, pumps inclined to mechanically engage any minute. After we are gone the gears will freeze. The chirping slows it comes too quick. That's a garden hose not a snake. Telephone messages from the butts of men. Garbled speech clinking glasses. Disinterest. A flock unidentified. Run for the hills, no the hollows. Over and over again. Basking or basting? Tiny flying insects or spots before his eyes. If I could walk that way I wouldn't need a doctor. Sister in San Francisco behind home plate. The pig at the reunion was a big hit but not for the pig. On the cusp of clammy he begins to notice the change. A doe and her fawn wander, wonder why it all tastes so bitter. Arsenic in chicken really? A yellow bird too far away flies. A butterfly waiting for its bush to flower. Hey you rabbits enough already. With a bypass loper he snips a wire and the sound ceases. No more fear. No more crying out. Someone else's future mystery. Seriously, rabbits as big as men are a threat to normalcy. I thought they were as big as deer. No, I never said that he said. If it were a dream he said, I would be asleep. Hunger, what's with that? The mockingbird chased the squirrel. The squirrel danced closer. He had a spoon nearby coated with last night's two-can bean dinner. He would throw it at a squirrel who came closer and that would answer that if the question was why are there no more spoons. But the important questions never get asked. Anyhow, that squirrel knows better and the pressure of a day beginning takes precedence. Why haven't those pumps engaged? Time and space. Christ the quandaries. The inhalation of a bug is the crack of a starting gun.
View current page
...more recent posts