Thursday, November 18, 2010

Drunken Drummer©

Sand. In the mouth, hair, eyes. Each breath number 8 sandpaper. That wind is a drunken drummer. Tiny playful gusts of sand whack the metal sides of the mobile home with short buzz rolls. RRRRRRRR. Then quiet again.

The trailers, with their gap toothed porches, are lined up as straight as loose change thrown into a panhandlers hat. It’s the casual way of life. A job here and a job there mixed in with a generous helping of social assistance and illicit pleasure sales.

Two young kids, probably a brother and sister, amuse themselves by exploring, unconcerned with the older folks goings-on. They came upon an apparition. A row-boat in this tumble weed trailer town. Sitting on a lonely dune, abandoned. Squint and the long course grass is the missing water, slapping the sides; reminiscent of the garbage bag waves in a cheap theater production.


Saturday, November 13, 2010

Deep Fall and the Penguin March©

Air is a wet sweater, dripping and hanging, weighing everyone down. The steam-ironed sky is the low tent over head. Don’t dare to stand up straight. Might hit the top.

Nature’s giant rotor fans crank up the breeze, giving a static shock of cool.

Crack of blue elbows its way in.

Hip carrier bag looped over the opposite shoulder. Narrow jeans tucked into her high leather boots. She looks ahead. Left hand is gripping the insulated coffee mug. Without changing her gaze, waiting for the light to change, the cup deliberately comes up to deliver. Inverted lips in distracted concentration.

It’s hot chocolate - the love drug. The muscular bittersweet takes her back to the night. Wrapped up in the duvet of her lover’s full body. His rhythmic relaxed breath is the hammock that lulls her into the stars. Drunk on the vibe and hormones she is reeling through the galaxy, into all knowledge. Chirp! Chirp! Chirp! Cross walk signal rudely brings her back. Get a butt moving across the street before the light changes again.

Multi-colored penguins parade off the shallow sidewalk bank into the sea of traffic - momentarily parted. Shoulder to shoulder, not daring to look sideways. It’s bad manners for proper penguins to be interested in a neighbor; no matter how attractive. Maybe sneak a peek as far as the peripheral will take.