Twas the night before Christmas and not a louse was a stirring on the world wide web nor blogstream – when all of a sudden from out of the shrubs jumped a lone figure dressed in black with white boots, and though some thought it might be ol st. nick - it was not to be - for before you could say the Easter Bunny - the world turned upside down and spilled green kool-aid all over the tv screen which ruined the Ellen Degenerate show, and tilted the world into global warming for a few seconds - until we righted ourselves with a few kind words to a local stranger walking down a deserted street in the little town right below Tulsa on the map.

 

Merry Christmas to All!

 

Ice

 

p.s. do you know…... 

 

a) who it was dressed in black with white boots?

b) who the local stranger was?

c) the name of the little town right below Tulsa on the map?

 

The air, heavy as lead, draped my world, and from my vantage point there appeared to be nothing I could do about it.  To be sure, if there was anything I could do – I would.

 

there’s peaches and pears on the bar

a public announcement on it’s way

and a voice singing ‘you can drive my car’

while nothing said, will my mind – sway

 

It could be said that a peculiar smell was in the air, as if something was burning, but while trying to follow the doc’s finger, I was shown the door, clearing the doc to tend to his patients.

 

What’s wrong? -  was the question; the answer - a longer campaign was needed, but working on believing it became too hard to do, so I quit doing it all together.

 

distributing the time equally all around 

yesterday afternoon came up short

so…. A hour was searched for and found

a conversion for the ages - one could say

 

Third from the middle - please take a long look at his face - and tell me whether or not you’ve ever seen him?  He used to push a broom over at the pool hall, a man with a special sweeping technique.

 

in the winter sky – both suns rotated slowly from sky to sky

and neither reader {or writer} wondered about the duality

and though the risk-line was glaring - never did he ask why

but on the twentieth near O’Henry’s – she finally recognized the reality

 

So, Dan didn’t stand with us without waiting, for out the door he went, and from behind the door – three kittens emerged without anyone seeing them.  Now, although I’d prefer to shoulder the responsibility myself  - it’s time to confide my secret to you.

 

it’s a self- delivered message I carry

and from where I stand - it stays the same

so don’t despair you can always join the Circus –- Larry

afterall it’s a pretty picture of the silly game

 

Can you tell anyone whether or not the claim would be sold or held?  No is the answer.  So… Trixie - please don’t kid yourself, don’t get a mistaken opinion – for it can lead you down a road with no return.  With only a couple of hours of daylight left, nobody had an inkling as to what was getting ready to happen.

 

the murderer’s bullet will go with me to the grave

though the secret will forever crease the horizon

for all to see and decipher - above the cave

can you not see the instrument in it’s zone?

 

THE NEW RESIDENCIA

 

“What,” Leo says, “is all this talk about a New Coming?”

“Christ!  Sounds like Jesus coming back or something.” 

 

Clearly his remarks are directed at Ice, but oddly enough I feel no need to respond, as - suddenly - I begin to feel the initial wave of a feeling so strong I’m momentarily rocked on my heels.  The sky outside my study, which had been gray and dim, is now dotted with tiny white clouds, which are suspended eerily in an expansive mass of increasingly glowing blue, and while this calming, yet, worrisome feeling is bathed in bright, newborn sunlight  - I can feel the beginnings of a change within myself.  Then, as if getting out of one car and into another - I find myself a victim of my own fantasying; I'm inside my story of the bus headed for Durango, Colorado.

 

 All the characters are directly in front of me; the conversation seems to be centered around Leo - who is excited about something, probably Ice’s wandering, meandering writing style - which I feel some responsibility for - since I wrote the words that got Leo so worked up.  But – as intriguing as it all is - I have no time for the story, or it’s characters, for outside – the day has turned into one of the most beautiful Sunday afternoons I’ve ever seen.

 

I decide to go for a walk.

 

The temperature outside is a mellow 68, and the ground below me is firm, yet soft to my tread, while the air is clean, and near sweet. There is no wind, and the silence – while at first - disconcerting, needs only a few minutes, to become golden – like the old song.

 

As I ease into my stride – interspersed with it – are my thoughts of what my day should consist of – now that my writing has been put on hold. First of all - will be ‘the walk’ itself; I’m now walking 3 miles – three times a day for a total of 9 miles per day.  During my walks I usually try and derive a story line for one of my stories, or sort out a personal problem that is troubling me, but under the present circumstances I do not have to come up with a story line, and have no problems to speak of, at least any that are significant enough to take my attention.  Thus, I arrive - somewhat suspiciously – here – in a meeting of the minds – mine with those who are reading these words at the moment.

 

Btw, when I use the phrase ‘meeting of the minds,’ I do not intend to imply that this is anything other than two minds coming together at the same time, although the writer’s mind has already left by the time the reader’s mind arrives, thus, the phrase itself might not be watertight.

 

I’m thinking about purchasing a voice-activated tape recorder.  Why?  To record thoughts – those that trip through my mind, unannounced, many times during my normal day, would be why, yes?  What do you think? 

 

As I really start to get into my walk – I suddenly – wonder if you are ok with the temporary suspension of the story line?  Maybe you arrived at this sight with your ‘sights’ set on reading another installment of those ‘crazy kids’ on the bus – only to find me in my introspective costume.

 

Oh well, the bus will go on – after all – it has to make it to Durango in a day or so to pick up ‘the Daze,’ the woman with the German Helmet for a hat.  Of course it’s not really a German Helmet, that is just what we (mainly Scratchomo and me) call it; everyone else claims it’s just a regular ladies hat.  

 

I’m glad – in retrospect – that I decided to go for a walk instead of staying in my story – though I do plan on returning in a minute or two – to the story – for I really have some questions to ask that Leo – know what I mean?

 

I’ll be back to the story – shortly……

 

ice

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

THE NEW RESIDENCIA *** “Stupid humans.  Look at them; running around like crazy, driving those mechanized vehicles and all.”   Dinis was raving, but then again, he was always raving.  Dinis is a bird, a blackbird, just like me, but his big problem is that he doesn’t know he’s a bird, whereas - I do.    Flying low over the golf course I’m puzzled once again, about why humans love it, the game, so much.  While that thought is leaving me, I sail through some trees and land on top of a beautiful pine, and look down at two men lining up their putts on the 17th hole.   Dinis soars in from the west, and lands on a branch next to mine.   Before he can say anything about how dumb humans are - for knocking a little white ball around – I diffuse everything by asking about the stranger.   “Yeah,” Dinis says, in response to my query, “he was walking on the sidewalk, early this morning, and though I thought I recognized him, in truth, he was – indeed - a stranger to me, and btw, a stranger to the people in the motor home too.”   “But, I say with my best mid-western drawl, didn’t Leo know the stranger?”   “Actually, no,” Dinis said, while hopping on one leg, and looking below with a devilish smile.   “Come on Dinis,” no shitting on the golfers, last time you did that – we almost got killed.”   “How was I supposed to know that guy packed a shotgun in his bag.  What a crock!”   “Ok, Ok,” Dinis said to my unspoken question, and sighing loudly, he flew off in a flurry of feathers.   Leaving me alone on top of the tree with my thoughts.    Thoughts about the stranger on the sidewalk and the people in the motor home.

But, ‘eggs & bacon’ was the last thing on Colo’s mind – as she watched the lone figure walking down the sidewalk.   “Pull over Leo,” she said, already reaching for the door handle as Leo slowed the motor home, and pulled it toward the curb.   Out on the sidewalk, she walked toward the stranger, cutting thru a yard in order to come astride him.   When he turned in her direction she was amazed, yet not, to see that he was exactly who she’d thought he was.   “Wally!” She practically yelled at him.  “What are you doing?”   “Oops but you are mistaken he said, while smiling at her and doffing his hat, a black one – with a red feather stuck in the hat band - that made her think of the old children’s song – “Yankee Doodle Dandy.”   “But, Colo said, I know you’re Wally cause I recognize you from the picture you posted on your blog.”   “Sorry, that picture was posted by me alright but I’m not Wally.”   “Then you are someone else who went by the name of Wally.”   “Exactly m’lady, you’re good.”   “So, he continued, what are you doing in Ice’s dream?”     “What are you talking about? She said.   “Ice is still dreaming, you must of missed that.”   “Still dreaming,” Colo said, with a puzzled look on her face.   “Yeah, haven’t you been reading his blog?”  He was dreaming in the last installment.”   “Yeah, he was, but at the end of the last blog, I was looking out the window at you as you walked down the sidewalk.”   “Well yeah you were,” the stranger is saying, but actually you were doing so - while in his dream.   “So, what do I do now,” Colo is asking - as the stranger puts his hat back on and continues down the sidewalk.   “Walk this way,” he says, as he laughs a little, while faking a limp, and walking away.

Of course when the stranger had turned and looked at Colo – in my mind’s eye - it was I who I recognized in my dream.  I was the stranger on the sidewalk.   I’d been walking down that sidewalk for many a day before Colo had hollered at me, waking me from my dream and propelling me into the real world – where she, Leo, and the ‘Wally look alike” - were all gathered around me on the sidewalk.   “Guys, Guys,” I said, to them all as I slipped out of my overcoat, gray, as in the weather – and handing it to Leo – I said, “Leo old chum, thanks for driving while I got some shut-eye, but I guess it’s time for me to drive, yes?”   “First, you need to tell me what is going on here.”  It was Colo putting her foot down.   “You’re so right,” I said as I gazed up at the sky and wondered not for the first time - if it was indeed the right time to tell this story.   “It’s written that the New Coming will be heralded in a dream – which will suddenly appear to two people at once - and will be known as “two moons.”   “I actually thought this was it.” I said, while turning toward the motor home.   Leo, for once, flabbergasted, turned with me and threw the cigarette he’d had in his mouth, unlit, onto the ground.   “What does all this mean, Colo asked to Leo’s back, and just as quickly – instinctively knew. “Two Moons.” She said.   “Two Moons.” Leo said, then, he said it again, slowly, allowing the words to roll gently from his mouth.  “Two Moons.”    “It’s a crossover” - I told them, as I leaned against the motor home.   “Just as Colo has just realized,” I added.   “Will someone please tell me what this ‘crossover’ has to do with ‘two moons?” Leo said, while appearing to be in a blue fog.   ‘Attraversiamo,’ I said, just loud enough for him to hear me.   “Save it, Colo said, you of all people should know that you’d never catch Leo reading a book being pushed by Oprah.”   “Eat, Pray, Love,” she says to the puzzled Leo.    “Attraversiamo,” is Italian for ‘Let’s cross over.’ She adds.   “And, I said, embedded in that book –   As I paused, the Wally look alike - finally spoke up – ‘is the key to the two moons.’

 

 

“Stop, and re-wind” …

 

“Re-wind what?” I said, rather stupidly.

 

But Joe, at least that’s who I figured it was, disappeared in my dream, and the next thing I knew - I was opening my eyes, and staring at the ceiling.

 

“Your life,” he said.

 

“My life?” I said, as I slipped back into the dream while noting that I’d rarely ever done that before.  Didn’t matter though, because here I am in la-la land again - with the old black man who I could only suspect was Joe – Leo’s friend.

 

“Come on man, push the rr button.”

 

I’m moving, but it’s like slow-mo, and although I’m looking hard – I can’t find a rr button anywhere.  What kind of crap is this anyway I’m thinking – but the voice, and that’s another odd thing about this dream – the voice is not of anyone I recognize – but then again I don’t know Joe – do I?

 

Anyway, whoever the voice belongs to – it’s talking again….

 

“Slice and turn man, hit the re-wind for god’s sake.”

 

Suddenly I can see the fricking rr button – right in front of my face – so big – it’s the only thing I see as a matter of fact.  Reaching up with my hand, I try to concentrate on my hand but am unable to – therefore – all I can see is a finger, presumably mine, as it pushes the huge rr button which causes a flash of light so bright {in my dream} – that everything is white for a millisecond, and the scene – a finger pushing a rr button – is turned solid, solid as a rock – and then I see myself – on a white screen – like at the theater – and I wonder what the hell I’m doing up there while I’m down here somewhere.  But, way before this can be deduced – I’m in rapt attention to what is transpiring on the screen.  The scene is myself – in my work truck, driving, and from the outside scenery, it looks as if I’m going to - or coming back - from El Paso.  But before that can be determined for sure – the scenery – outside my window – changes and I know for sure that I’m headed for Little Rock and it’s beginning to rain. 

 

“Having fun yet?” 

 

It’s the voice again, and my answer to the question is a resounding no, which I doubt can be heard because of the volume level of the music on the radio, at least I think it’s music, it could be an out of control talk show.  But, I know it’s not an out of control talk show, and neither is it music – what it is, of course, is a gray sky, and leaves are falling, creating the noise I thought might be music, or an out of control talk show.  What is it about leaves falling, that causes so much noise, I wonder idly, as I notice a lone figure walking down a sidewalk surrounded by grass that is green but un-growing.  It, the figure, is a man - that - I can tell, but as to his looks, or age, I’m unable to ascertain – hence I have no idea who he might be.  As I continue to watch – the man continues his lonely stroll down the sidewalk, until finally – he stops - and opening a glass door, he enters a small building that has suddenly appeared - not unlike a ship - emerging from a fog. 

 

Wondering what possibly could be inside - I lean against the glass and peer inside…

 

It’s a scene right out of anyone’s past – booths, with red vinyl seats – full of teen-agers drinking cokes through clear straws.  And there in front of me - is me – in my black ivy league pants and white shirt.  Wow!

 

But wait – I’m no teen-ager – but upon closer examination I realize – that nobody is, really, you know.  We are what we are, and that’s all – right?

 

The man on the sidewalk stops, and turning in my direction, he looks at me - and once again I see me looking back at me, and now I know that the reason the grass is not growing - is because it’s October – and grass - doesn’t grow, as a rule, in October.  Also, it’s apparent to all concerned that the sting has been removed from life - since we’ve circled it so many times, from so many different angles.  Certainly the magic has disappeared - as if a magic trick itself  - but as the pages of a calendar continues to flip in my mind’s eye – I suddenly realize that I must of pushed the re-wind button because things are unwinding in front of my eyes – and nobody is waking me from this dream, hence I’m wondering if it is – a dream.

 

Slowing the motor home as they come into town, Leo lights his cigarette, keeping one eye on the road, while looking at Colo, who is sitting in the passenger seat – staring out her window.

 

“I’m getting hungry – think the others are ready for breakfast?”

 

Without diverting her gaze from the window, she said, “I don’t know – but they’re all in dreamland that’s for sure.”

 

“Well – we’ll just have to wake them up, cause I’m wanting some eggs and bacon.” 

 

“Ok by me,” she says, as she stares out the window, at the lone figure - walking down the sidewalk.