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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
 Posted - 09/19/2014 : 19:55:33
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| Pictures in the memory attic. Dinosaur diner out on the 10. Velvet Elvis and T Rex "Endless Breakfast" menu. Scorpion paperweights at the check stand. Snakeskin belts and bolo ties. Miles of semis and freight trains rolling across the desert floor. Pinwheel wind farm's dust and weedy wonders. Web of adrenaline shivering the backs of her knees burning that high octane fuel. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 09/23/2014 : 19:52:49
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| My huckleberry friend. Every night. Every morning before I open my eyes. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 09/25/2014 : 23:03:30
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| "I never thought... I never looked into it..." she says. But he sees things in historical perspective, "...something...some memory...some...?" "No..." she says, "No. Just laughter and ice cubes clinking in the glass. Second-hand stories overheard of a time before I was born. He was in the hotel business. On an island thirty miles out to sea. Choppy waters and a granite coastline. Mother ships wary of shoals. Brazen blockade runners with their raucous brotherhood. Their vocabulary of determination. Stubborn. Rough and musical. The riot in the blood. Three lighthouses in a triangle. Two on the open sea. No high candle on the back side. Just the ever-cold Atlantic. Did they find a hidden pocket beach? Midnight bayberry and beach plum? Did they bring the boats in or was it all brag? I don't know. He was sixty when I was born. My mother was twenty-four." |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/02/2014 : 20:55:10
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| Everything he says she finds. In less than a day they finish each other's sentences. Unaware. The trees run wet with weather. "Would you like to come in...?" she says, folding her umbrella. He holds the door open. Touches her waist. Takes the newspaper and places it on the floor. Stoops down and removes her shoes and sets them on the paper to dry. He does the same with his. Slow-motion rain on the window. She reaches for tea and the kettle. He sits down at the table where so much of their life will occur. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/05/2014 : 17:06:02
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| They often shot in Central Park. Mornings and evenings because of the ambience of the light. And because afternoons were full of loud trust fund kids intent on tormenting their nannies. They shot Summer in Winter and vise-versa. Wool leggings and fur-collar coats in July. Camp shorts and sundresses in December. In between shots I'd sit on a cold bench drinking hot coffee when I was ten. "You liked that," he says. "You betcha!" she says. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/05/2014 : 17:11:52
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| "Don't open that can," she warns him, "a room full of prayers and lost passports." "Be careful..." he says, decades later in the lobby of the Blue Shade Motel. Low lamps where the desk clerk runs the radio all night long. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/14/2014 : 19:21:53
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| East side, west side. Raise your hand and catch a ride to a rundown warehouse in Chinatown. Seven flights of circular stairs. A silo-style black metal birdcage. They shot the catalogs there. Freight elevators to bring up the clothes. Free lunch in underwear and barbershop cape. Pond's Cold Cream clean up later. Grab the handrail at the top. Go airborne with cash to the bottom. Anonymity back out on crowded Canal. "Soooo..." he says, long pause, "...jus' doin' the day..." She shrugs her shoulders. "I showed up once a month at Diocesan Services. Smiled. Stood up straight with my feet in third position. Posture and attitude counted for a lot before computers." It depends on his mood what happens now. |
Edited by - Ailinn on 10/24/2014 19:39:33 |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/14/2014 : 19:41:37
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| They make an unusual couple. Tiny Robber with her Grimm's Fairy Tale tats, and long tall Garret with his rep tie and American flag lapel pin. "My carrot-top slice of white bread," Robber calls him. Garret works at the Research Center where they clone the Presidents, the cabinet, and Elvis. A local rumor because of the low bunker-like buildings folded into the hills, the helipad rooftops and security folks talking to their cuff links. Garret gets in with a palm print. They'll marry on Valentine's Day. On the beach, weather permitting. Marco will make the wedding cake. Heart-shaped. To be shared at Sunrise. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/14/2014 : 20:02:27
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Front page Coast News: SANDAG is replacing the old wooden trestle over San Elijo Lagoon. Construction is expected to start...
The Coaster crosses the lagoon and the bluff crumbles along the edges. A little less bluff every year. Posted. DANGER - SLIDE AREA. Where he parked those full moon plus-tide nights when the train shot across the trestle. Water so high it was lapping the tires. No room to turn around. And he knew it. "You knew it too," he said. |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 10/19/2014 : 23:20:20
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breathe in
incumbent,
a rationale in limbo,
duty bound for those
predisposed
to do,
for doing, is living,
to those who think
they are alive,
a life,
full to live,
three score and ten
is never enough
to finish,
life, can be nothing but a measure
of finite individual breaths.
for who remembers the dead?
and yet,
they who live
are they who are dead,
the walking dead,
devoid of life
and music,
listen,
to the living,
can you hear them sing?
captured, found within
the music,
is a bridge named agape'
it is a soul's release,
a heart's song,
a healing balm,
breathe in eternity
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Edited by - aussiedave on 10/19/2014 23:23:52 |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 10/19/2014 : 23:40:36
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in limbo
in limbo,
an experience of human
suspended
isolation,
severed, cut, the prism blank,
cold, comatose, a non-entity,
devoid,
waiting for the resumption
of time,
held back
by an infralapsarian
destiny,
foreordained,
this,
a cosmic reality.
in limbo,
where future emotions are stored,
kept sacred, until ripe for release,
where darkness reigns,
and lonely silence stifles all improbable thought,
where non-existence lives,
it gives birth to the black abyss,
deep, bottomless and endless,
all time halts.....
and waits.....
no-one hears the sound
of frozen isolation,
for no-one knows.
kept in limbo,
for a moment, a time, a year,
or two,
a decade,
an era......a micro-second,
an eternity,
a human experience
of one. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/20/2014 : 18:50:42
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I love reading this, Dave. Hope things are going well in your part of the world.
Ro |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 10/20/2014 : 21:21:47
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everything is as it should be.
1. another year older.
2. more love to give.
3. and the grandchildren are forever young.
love ya too.
[..is that storm clouds on the horizon?..
or is that just my eyes slowly closing..] |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/20/2014 : 23:02:58
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AD-
Keep writing.
For days gone by. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/22/2014 : 18:36:44
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| San Ysidro Gate. A half step behind he touches her wrist, her waist. Guides her through the crowd with his sure palm flat against the small of her back. They look straight ahead and not at each other. On the other side he changes her name. |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/22/2014 : 18:50:27
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| Four shots of Herradura. Four cups of Sumatra Bold. Late Autumn afternoon caught deep in the warp and weave of it. Leaning in he sees the story. The picture he's looking for. "...he was a smitten father..." she says, "taught me to draw sun on water with charcoal sticks and pastel crayons. My first easel arrived by ferry when I was five." Guadalupe. Valley stories. Cups full of light in the morning. Laughing. Laughing. "...Long time...long time," he says, "...miracles in the physical world...those sunsets." |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 10/25/2014 : 19:38:46
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| "...flyin' down that Montezuma Grade. Flat-out open in Borrego. Four-wheelin' through them creek bed wash-outs playin' weatherman again." "76 and sunny. Back to you, Blaine..." |
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aussiedave
Swinger
Australia
509 Posts |
Posted - 10/26/2014 : 23:27:56
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...I got my hand around the bottle.....and my foot on the throttle...
well, it's 1 2 3...what are we fightin' four
don't ask me, I don't give damn,
next stop is.............? |
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Joey L.
Swinger
USA
1383 Posts |
Posted - 10/27/2014 : 12:11:59
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Afghanistan?
Inquiring minds knead da dough, y'know! cuz ... 'the Future's Not' ... |
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Ailinn
Windchimer
2196 Posts |
Posted - 11/01/2014 : 21:41:19
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Under stars they know the change seeping through their clothes. Cool on their desert-warm skin.
"...starburn...starsheen..." he says later in the Airport Café carrying her light carry-on luggage. Crushing kisses up and over the harsh Santa Rosas.
"...the herons...he says, "...coming up out of the marsh behind the house that day...together..."
The clouds are drawn ruler-straight above silver-plated water where she stands at the sundial. Its sail tacking the hours. |
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The Nightly Vigil