Breathless in the dust

in #romance6 years ago (edited)

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Maybe I’ve got a five year itch that can never be scratched.
Or maybe it’s that, I’m turning into what I feel: breathless in the dust.
Whatever this is, it’s got me, so that I can’t find the door anymore.

Yes, whatever this is, it’s got me to where I am on my own, kind of like some sorcerer, or perhaps a warrior, who’s lost his powers and is looking around in the grave for something to save him.

I think I shall ring the dinner bell soon, said the elevator man pressing buttons like crazy in the elevator going down.

Ah, another race to the bottom I see, and reciting his prayers at the same time.

This is your mission control speaking: metaphor number sixty seven is requesting permission to land.

Damn and blast, what are all these interruptions?

They are delusions of your grandeur coming home to roost.

I’m up to my knees at the moment; can you please come back later?

I have the feeling that you are talking to me.

Whatever gave you that idea?

I’m not sure; keep on talking and I’ll let you know.

Okay then: hiss, hissed the demon from under my bed, and gave me quite a shock, and at least one wink.

A cleverly concealed Russian dancer did the knees up across the stage then and was quite a sight as I looked about the stage looking with my eyes all kind of huge like.

There were a number of nine inch nails hanging about the place, and I’d just been hired to clean them up; so, blowing all my trumpets at the same time I pulled up my pants and came to believe in many things and got to work before there was an accident.

Running here and there grabbing for a nail with my many fingers, barriers were overcome, and I made a promise to myself to get out of here soonest, and vote for someone else next time.

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When the chorus girls came on I was nudged off the stage, and so fell into the wings where the band were doing a fine number and needed no help from me whatsoever; so I went home and got into the house sideways through the sticking door.

And then it was almost that time to dive into the pantry and raid whatever was there, and to hell with the consequences, I said, I can smile later.

I got as far as the graveyard where the jabber-bird was roosting.

And then the dead were there right in front of me and asking me what I was doing in the kitchen.

I took a huge breath and climbed out the window; and then climbed right back in again, and tried to work up some kind of excuse. But the gods were not going to be kind to me and sent me a bolt of lightning to give me a bit of a shock like and to wake me up maybe.

Well, somewhere later in the asylum, I came to my senses and was withheld from my true potential in favour of the dark side of the snake.

It was here that I loosened my tie and took off my shoes, and began to toe dance like a real professional.

Maybe I’d been counting too many chickens lately, but I was starting to understand that I’d been led astray, and as I danced I began to pray for heaven.

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You’ll stand where you are given, or not stand at all, said the dead.

I was toe dancing into heaven, what did I care what the dead had to say.

Tonight, something rolled across the sky, and over the dead, that don’t see any more, screamed the next day’s headlines all across the sky.

Yes, some star-ship, shining around and beaming down at me; no, the dead are dead, and always have been.
That figures.

Where did YOU come from?

The grave is where I come from.

Are you dead?

How dead do I look?

You look as dead as a ghost.

That’s some kind of dead then?

It sure is.

We must progress ahead of this or forever be down among them.

I’ve just been bitten by something.

Where?

I can’t tell you.

What does it feel like?

It feels like, the dead are on the move again.

That’s some bite you got then.

Yes, it certainly is; and I can tell you other things too.

Such as?

Well, you remember that dancer who danced on the moon?

I sure do.

He got into trouble he did.

And what happened then?

I’m not sure I should tell you.

Well, how about a clue, just so I don’t go blind, like.

A clue, you say?

Yes, that’s what I say.

You don’t happen to have a shilling on you, do you?

Not right now, no.

How about a free breakfast?

What is this, some kind of inquisition?

I’m just making conversation honey.

Maybe I should break out the wine.

Maybe you should then.

I think we need to talk one of these days about where all this is taking us.

I think we should; schedule it for the next moment that comes.

Yes all right. We must do that then. Do you have a report card?

There are moments you know, when you totally confuse me.

And that is why we have appointments and schedules to fill our pain.

I’ve not seen a lizard around here for an awfully long time, have you?

Not even one.

Well then.

Well then nothing; I waited for you by the magic tree and you didn’t appear to turn up.

I did turn up, but you were breathless in the dust and I didn’t want to disturb you.

That’s not much of an excuse.

It’s the only one I’ve got.

I feel like hearing some sweet music to take me away from the cobwebs that hold me back.

I’ve got something else for that.

You have?

Sure I have; don’t I always?

I’ve totally forgotten what we were talking about.

Well, you were swinging through the trees, and I was down here trying to catch you.

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That’s a line I’ve heard before somewhere; maybe every night you come around here trying to sway me to your blues and rustic manner of speaking.

Well I can’t help it if I’m in love with you, can I?

No, you sure can’t.

Absolutely then.

Is that a proposition?

Am I not already on my knees?

I guess I can love you then?

By the way, did something I do disturb you once that you can’t wear red lipstick for me anymore?

I have never worn red lipstick in my life before this night that comes before us to be worn like red lipstick on the mind for ever more until eternity comes to take us away.

Never mind.

Did you say something?

No, no, not a thing.

I will play some soft blues now to take us to our desert island where we can relax under the palm trees where the wind will blow us away.

Oh, you’re so romantic.

Yes, and I play the piano in the greenhouse while watching films in the wheelbarrow being rocked by the turnips on one side and the lazy corners on the other.

Hey, you’ve got a beat going.

Yeah, let’s rock to it.

I’m already rocking honey.

A miner, digging his way south, was passing by outside, and so began listening in while looking around for the guard dog and wondering if there was a bologna sandwich going easy.

When no bologna sandwich presented itself the miner continued south and forgot all about what he’d heard…

So there you were under the lamp light and drinking into your coffee with one hand on your heart and chewing wildly that made me think of chewing gum, but I may have been wrong.

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Anyway, I exposed my teeth and said: arr, and blew into your hunger like a thousand strikes of the snake’s fangs in a Dracula moment.

You said eek and became my slave until I didn’t know what to do anymore and so went for a quick cigarette to see if I could come up with something to calm my nerves.

I want to meet you five minutes later tonight if that’s alright with you I said when I came back.

Sure, that’s alright she said, and moved in on me again.

I needed another cigarette, and looked to gulp a last sup of my wine; when she came too close.

We shall dance now, said the master of the dance. And raising his baton, he winked and said: we’ll be right back soon folks…

Images from Pixabay

More reading of mine... https://www.amazon.com/dean-moriarty/e/B00BFMQT02/ref=sr_ntt_srch_lnk_9?qid=1534420624&sr=1-9

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This was an extremely interesting and unique read. It reminded me of the stream of consciousness writings of the beats.

Thanks; Richard Brautigan was one of my favourites

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