Moon at Midnight – Part XXXVII (day 2011)

(part XXXVI)

Tall Pine and I kept following the tracks
Until we could hear them laughing
Off in the distance
We had the advantage of being silent
Without horses
So we easily snuck up on the bastards
We counted three
And waited until we saw the other two
We knew we had been following five horses.

When they returned
Pine and I had already made a plan
He was good with the arrow
And I had two tomahawks in my hands
They were against a few large boulders
Beside a creek that had a shallow pool
Eating the meat that we had been smoking
And having a gay old time
He assured me he could have three down
Before I jumped
There was another boulder to the left of the group
That he was able to get beside
And also use as a shield
He had eight arrows.

He watched carefully as I silently
Made my way up behind the group
Clearly oblivious to anybody following them
As Pine began sending his arrows into their chests
I jumped on one who was lazily falling asleep
When I turned around two were looking at me
Fumbling to get their guns
And a third had his trousers down
Caught red handed and frozen
Lucky for me,
When the first one fired his gun
It only clicked
I guess he hadn’t reloaded since raiding our village.

With my first swing his hand was gone
The second swing was into his neck
As I swung around
I planted my tomahawk into the seconds head
And ripped my axe from the firsts neck
Pine had taken down the third
Who had his trousers down
Still just standing there unable to move
The horses spooked
But stayed close being tied up
I went over to the first Pine had hit
And made sure he wasn’t still breathing.

The woman was clearly distressed
But recognized me
She sat there, weeping silently
As Pine came up beside me
He gathered the horses
And asked what we would do with them
I told him to remove the saddles
And we will take them with us
But we will walk for now
He tied them halter to tail.

I brought the woman to the creek
To wash her face
I washed the blood from my hands
And cleaned my axes
I tied the guns onto one of the horses
And we began walking back at a fairly fast pace
Still on alert should we have missed anybody.

part XXXVIII

Two Minute Dummies (day 1837)

Dear George,

I’ve been plowing the sky lately,
Pushing out weeds and laughing
Into circular spires that tangle my heart
And blow my innocence
One seed at a time.

And this is just day one.

This isn’t like some kind of marigold round,
This is a lost mannequin
Rusting beside two mute dummies
In an old warehouse
Sprinkling fuel all around in
Distorted laughter and
Fixing generators with all night fuel parties.

And don’t piss off the bouncer.

So, things have been interesting,
You know?

How are things with you?

Love,

Lucy

Lofty Wedding Plans (day 1050)

Could you Amaretto my incomprehensible stiletto? Deep soaked truths brushing up against the blue moon life story that shared Tom Waits and Miles Davis equally between the two top sheet stuffed mattress in a good lord rented room.

The walls were left bare; freedom and shit. Fucking expressionists and their lofty ideals pulsing rapidly amongst soiled novellas and empty chopstick promises. How did I get here. How did I find this spot from outside in? I left little spit smears on my way here to keep me from wanting to know the way back, to keep me from guessing at a way back, and to keep the collectors hot at my rented room door.

The walls never left me wondering for too long, they’d start dripping some smear mold juice as the clock told me late. This was after I’d fucked the last resort out of my head and told my mistress to make herself at home, to which she calmly replied she was at home. I was the guest. I was the visitor in this white washed world trying to jam my heart out in broad brush strokes and feverish memories. Not ones that were lucid, the ones that came and convulsed and controlled and regurgitated out my heart like lofty wedding plans standing alone with a big bill and an empty passenger seat.

Cause fuck brothers and sisters. Fuck their abuse and consumption and interruptions and impressions. I’ve got Miles Davis really laying me low when I need the time off. You’re not the legend I thought you could be, but I’ve sure left out a piece of the past like left over cum spots in a 17$ too good too remember night.

Daddy left me here. He was two dollars short on the rent cheque, he was two days late coming home when I held mommas starving and overdosed fingers, left the biggest hole in his smallest of hearts where I put an industry of lifelines and bagged political statements I had prepared for a two minutes long deposition. I wasn’t ruthless as I counted on my fingers the number of deadbeats I had written letters for, I wasn’t ruthless as I blew elitist smoke up the child-like innocent faces of the wide eyed yuppies.

Now dare tell me why my maidens eyes weren’t bloodshot. Why hadn’t the tears soaked through her indiscriminate and perked speedbags that kept me looking like wild Jack, wild Dad, searching for the red room. Red Rum. Fuck. Red room. What kind of luck should I bring down on such an innocent vixen? Such a loudly laughing white swan budding in my autumn garden. I’m not a troubadour. I’m a fucking junkie.

I’m Sorry (day 786)

I’m sorry for wishing upon a star
I’m sorry for shading in my grays
I’m sorry for holding my glass half full
I’m sorry for not wearing socks
I’m sorry for listening to birds
I’m sorry for squeezing my hugs tight
I’m sorry for singing in the rain
I’m sorry for dancing you around in circles
I’m sorry for laughing at the jokes
I’m sorry for whispering into winds
I’m sorry for handling the hot dishes
I’m sorry for opening your door
I’m sorry for carrying the heavy stuff
I’m sorry for kissing you under that old oak
I’m sorry for making you tea

Foreign but Traditional Airports (day 736)

It was cold as I stepped off the airplane in that small foreign airport, so many miles from home and not a plan, save for you.

You were an adventure, insight into a foreign world with a warm couch to sleep on. A world I had spent so many years learning about.. planning for.

An adventure with a heart wide open and arms firmly closed, cobblestone streets ancestors had walked upon and a quiet corner of a once booming shipping port.

There was a long bus ride with anxious questions as friends long been separated chatted, and the grand tour through old town with a heavy bag and just a little bit of complaining.

Awaiting at the airport pacing back and forth, I wondered where she was. My phone was expired, no money in my pockets, not even an address to go to.

Biezpiens is a traditional dish. It was necessary, so was the fresh selection of strawberries at the old farmers market. And a little slice of chocolate, traditional chocolate.

There was a dog; a big brown Lab/Sharpei mix with big ears and bigger paws. She was an anxious dog, the kind that pulls at the leash every step of the way. Leaves, sticks, strange smells, other dogs…

Twice a day I’d walk her through the retired graveyard, searching every gravestone for recognizable names. Never found any.

Ever step I felt like I could see horses pulling buggies, old top hats and pointed mustaches. The signs of old Baltic Ritterschaft nobility.

I’d find new paths every day I’d walk the city streets. New buildings that were old buildings, new corners of the city that were old corners of the city. I’d learned cobblestones made quite a racket when car tires roll over them.

I left there in love. In love with a city, in love with a way of life. In love with a style. In love with a woman who did not want to love me.

I left there with a hug from her and a lick from the dog for a long full bus ride. The whole way to the foreign airport early that morning I stood with my bags about my shoulders, fighting the woes of leaving my heart behind and the dizziness of hardly a breakfast in my belly.

Of course the only thing I could think of was the laughing while smiling.

Riga - 201209 (26 of 605)

Together, Apart (day 696)

I’m sorry my dear darling
But I’ve been out here passing
My card into the hands
Of my future’s next romance

I hope this isn’t shocking
For I’ve been displaced in my walking
Left to my own devices
Off on unknown adventure

I was never left here laughing
Nor with you did I try crying
But a city that whispers wildly
Tore our souls together, apart

Johnny Johnny Say-So (day 673)

Tulip too long
I’ve grown a song
For you, it’s done
And it is long

The day does shine
As we break rhyme
Jesters of mine
We pass the time

Watch as I roll
A simple stroll
One modest toll
Where I dare loll

Aha! You see!
We can not flee
You there and me
So full of glee

No road shall end
No man shall bend
We sew and mend
Don’t dare offend

You see, my guest
With all the rest
Courtly the best
You say I jest?

Not I, I say
On this fine day
I walk and play
It is my way

We walk and sing
And cowbells ring!
Up up we swing
Then down laughing!

aHappyRatJohnny Johnny can be purchased here.