This is from the road sides along Saguaro Lake. The lake has several access points. It rests within the mountains. Several elevation changes and arroyos (dry river beds) give several different views and plants. The stately Saguaros are everywhere. The blooms are limited by rainfall. This is the second month of blooms here.
“Watch this! Abracadabra!” Tom waves his hands like a wounded bird in flight. “See the light comes on! It works every time, too.”
“Wow, that’s incredible. How does it hear you speak?” Louie scratches his balding middle aged scalp. Pondering the genie lamp. “What if you spoke a different language? Would it still work?”
“Of course, it would! Abracadabra is the same in a lot of languages. But what would really be cool would be if it won a ribbon like the other junk here.” Tom looks around at the antique display at the fair.
A faint voice decries being placed in a lamp as punishment
lost in details
Intangibles don’t count
What is detached
“Those words…. They were sharp as glass. I can feel them still.” Dave’s voice monotone delivery fades away.
His mind churns them over and over. Minutes to hours. His mind whittles away today with their harshness.
His place outside next to his garage. Blank eyes look in the air for the answer to what consumes him. His washed out blue eyes hide behind glasses. Years have added wrinkles to better disguise his intent. His salt and pepper hair match his close cut bread. His pallid face blank from lack of conclusion.
“I can remember… Her words started about me not doing something. Her brown eye harden and bloodshot. I just thought… well, I can listen. But then I’ll think about the words. I’ll start making dumb mistakes.” Dave wave his hands explaining this to an unseen companion.
He sits back on his metal chair. His breath pauses. Fingers engage in hunting for a cigarette. His lost addiction remains fresh to his body.
The chasm of what we do and how quickly it can change, spill before his feet. A series of bumps shake his thoughts free.
“I recon I’ll have to check on her. She’s probably waking up. She will probably be a little cross about the whole tired up thing. She never was much for understanding.” Dave looks toward the door leading in the garage.
His eyes open a but more. His head swivels side to side. Inventory of his neighbors send important now.
Dave slides forward in his chair. Both arms come to rest at the edge of the chair to propel him up. A simple motion seems like slow motion. Dread suddenly checks on his face. He had always hated confrontation. Maybe, it will be easier with her tired up a bit.
The ordinary door leads to a garage more storage than garage. Boxes of varies color and age stack toward lights and open rafters. A path, five to eight feet winds through the maze of excess things. The bumping noise get more intense as he moves toward crudely made cage. More chain link fencing leaned against cinder block wall. A few metal poles keep an opening with a giant cocoon drifting side to side. A rap of fencing follows a soft bump. Oddly hypnotic in motion.
“Grace, you are awake. We didn’t have to go this way. But now that we did… Get comfortable. I’m not the best at things, as you keep reminding me. Well, I’ve had a few hours to think it over. I’ll have to think some more about how we move on from here. Please, fur once let me think.” Dave sips at a coffee mug. He smiles a tad. “I’ll be back in awhile. Don’t go anywhere.”
Her advances rejected.
Smiles and laughs at stupid humor never noticed.
Her homemade, albeit bakery bought, treats ravaged like she wanted her to be.
Her last attempt at avoiding be meaningless realized. While never a pink girl, a pink 9 mm feels mighty noticable now.
Chill in the air
The distant Sun offers little
Where gentle rays once landed
Barren land shines out
Life hides in shadows
Melancholy day grows long
Waiting for the return of warmth
Maybe tomorrow, today grey rules