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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/05/2020 :  16:36:34  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Where is he going? Where has he been? Rush of leaves on the ground. Stinging rain. She opens the door to him wet on the deck. Steps aside when he walks in. He's in the parlor with the poker in his hand. Rearranging logs on the grate. Turning his pockets out on the table as if he were finally home. "Come closer," he says. Or she does.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/05/2020 :  16:40:46  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Bits of dreams scraping our cheeks," he says in the first high loft kitchen. Food on a painted tray with lacquered green leaves. Back and forth from the sideboard to the deck. And up to stars burning in little cups too bright to look at directly.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2020 :  10:33:39  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
There's a sanitarium on the island behind a stone wall and leafy trees. The stones fallen away in places big enough to crawl through. The "guests" rock on porches. Their faces to the sun sipping tea. Day after day a woman with a crown of white braids in the corner chair. On her lap a book of never-turned pages. I want a bee to startle her. I want to see her jump up alive. Her long hair come undone. I want them all to stand up and start clapping.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2020 :  16:35:14  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...stunned by the swiftness of the world," she says. "Indelible images. Ruched satin lining so perfect on the lids of my parents last bed. Angels rushing through closing doors. No figs on the table. No warm milk in a bone china cup. A narrow bed without linens because I refuse to say my prayers in French. Rice on the floor. Little divots in my knees. Bless their holy hearts. How they try to save me. And I'm grateful. Fistful of Mission Box money. My thumb out beside a long road. "What were you thinking then? Tell me," he says leaning in, his knees touching hers. "A train station village. A long ride to where. I was thinking of soup," she says. "Three new dollar bills in my pocket."

Edited by - Ailinn on 04/11/2020 23:20:44
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2020 :  16:38:36  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Later a man lays his heart on the table. Sets her up on the counter beside the sink. Picks cinders out of her knee with a pair of tweezers sterilized in tequila. His glasses sliding down his nose. "You see it now, don't you," he says.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2020 :  16:43:00  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Dawn light. Inlets where the sea strays silver. She's on her knees Spring-hopeful poking seeds into the ground. "...dependin' how busy we wanna be," he says, barefoot with the blanket over his shoulders. "Okay..." he says. "Let's start with..." Cherry blossoms in the pink park.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/11/2020 :  16:45:01  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
And you everywhere...
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 04/14/2020 :  13:54:29  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Darlin, I can't make excuses
For the kind of man I've been.
I've paid so many pipers
for so many deadly sins.
I'm not here making promises
Or trying to change your mind.
Just an old man chasing memories
Before the whiskey makes me blind.

[The girl shouldnta danced like that
There oughtta be a law.
She sent me to the floor of Hell
And I bounced back up for more.]

I never heard your crying
In the middle of the night.
I was busy burning bridges
And making up new lies.
The preacher says you lose your soul
When you sniff the devil's breath
The night's couldn't come fast enough
Until the day you left.

[She shimmies and she shakes that thing
Turns a good man over to wild
I still see that red dress in my dreams
Sometimes I even smile.]

We never had the money
But, baby, we had a time,
Golden Gate Park was hot that day
You were my first song that rhymed.
Those magical days of nineteen
Turned to forty overnight
Things get lost along the road
You can never make them right.

The girl shouldnta danced like that
There oughtta be a law.
She sent me to the floor of Hell
And I bounced back up for more.]

[She shimmies and she shakes that thing
Turns a good man over to wild
I still see that red dress in my dreams
Sometimes I even smile.]

The girl shouldnta danced like that
There oughtta be a law.
She sent me to the floor of Hell
And I bounced back up for more.]




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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 04/14/2020 :  13:57:22  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Weather report says all residents should prepare for high winds and possible tornadoes.
Ok, I’m under the covers.
That should do it.



Edited by - buckman on 04/14/2020 13:58:38
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 04/21/2020 :  11:23:15  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
We sat on the back porch drinking coffee waiting for the twilight and the grass to grow thru the dust. She whispered, a sound like a butterfly sighing, and asked what I was thinking about.
Now, Darlin, only now, I said.



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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/24/2020 :  14:58:08  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Long days. Trance afternoons. All that ale-color mica-flecked air. The summer glows on. His breath on the mirror. His raised eyebrow and lit cigarette. His art that leaves smoke on the walls. He turns and quietly closes the door. "...painted it to slow it down..." he says, " ...to see what it was."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/24/2020 :  15:05:59  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Clouds float in puddles on the beach road. Wet prints down the centerline. The storm moves in closer. Crosses the Bay. El Nino's renegade water. Four corners leaking. Lightning streaking the sky. Tarp and sandbags. Broken horizon. At 5pm the cliff slides and snaps the track like curling ribbon. Soon they're counting candles. "I'm tellin' you now," he says, his palm flat down slicing the air. The ocean's dark prophesy leaning in. "What we need... What we need..." he pauses. "Well that's how it starts," he says laughing.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 04/24/2020 :  15:08:05  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Jus' tell the story," he says. "Don't explain it."

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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 05/04/2020 :  09:07:09  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
I was picked up hitchhiking by Mr Krause, the father of Allison, one of the dead girls, a year after the killings at Kent State. It was an incredible conversation about his growing radicalism. He was on his way to Washington to testify. I was going to demonstrate. It was an interesting ride.


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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 05/07/2020 :  16:58:17  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Fervent prayers. The ocean's wet ear. Gull-crowded sky. Sun-shined flowers. "Heaven over our heads," he says. A day on the other side of the glass. A day the trees wear tiaras. Gold locket watch in his pocket. Pistol snug in his boot down India to the PCH. Ships rocking in the Harbor. Sun setting under the bridge.

Edited by - Ailinn on 02/11/2021 17:47:57
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buckman
Firefly

USA
2872 Posts

Posted - 05/08/2020 :  09:54:15  Show Profile  Visit buckman's Homepage  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
“Beware lest you lose the substance
by grasping the shadow.”
-Aesop


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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 05/08/2020 :  16:29:24  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Double features. Warner Pathe news. Red Ryder. The Perils of Pauline. Ghosts in the balcony..." he says, "...plush ruby seats. Eyes wide on the screen. Free popcorn."
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 05/16/2020 :  18:25:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
Days gone by...

Cold on a long night in late Spring. Small fires against the foothills. Random shots in the dark. NO TRESPASSING signs. He traces his brow with Braille fingertips. Places the lodge there. Swings onto an unmarked dirt road in the middle of Indian country. His sense of direction uncanny. The wedding celebration starts at sunrise and lasts two days. Med is the tribal chairman's granddaughter. Heart of the reservation. Marrying within the tribe. Though Lucas, her betrothed wears a suit and silk tie and works in a high rise in the city. Roasted squash. Fry bread. Beef and deer meat. Buttery chili corn and smoked abalone. Shaken-jar ice cream with honey. Sunsets in layers. All purple and flame.

Later they make a house in Sage near Lake Skinner. We come for reunion. For love. Fish the weekend away in a place that shines.
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 06/01/2020 :  20:56:31  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"Did you like it there?" he asks. "Close your eyes and tell me what you see." "Episodic," she says. "Little rooms I pass through. My father happy when friends fly in for golf. Raucous laughter. Sweepstakes and Revolution. My mother floating in and out of the frame. Waiting for her face to appear. Scarlet Fever's dark room. Bandage over my eyes. She came and read to me. Thin cotton nightgowns she insisted they change every few hours. Do children still get Scarlet Fever?"
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Ailinn
Windchimer

2249 Posts

Posted - 06/01/2020 :  21:01:32  Show Profile  Edit Reply  Reply with Quote  View user's IP address  Delete Reply
"...secret place. I'll take you there," she says. "Low fold in the meadow. Lilly of the valley. White and purple violets big as silver dollars. Clear water running over smooth stones. The bank sloped enough to lie quiet watching the sky slide by." "Did you go there alone?" he asks.
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