Two hands break the surface
Ooze separating with uneven sound
Grey film clings until bits slip away
Hands grow to forearms
The moonlight cares little
Whistling wind picks up leaves
They dance an unsightly dance
Mirroring chaos as they scatter about
Hollow grunt spills upon the breeze
Forearms bear shoulders
Clouds stretch thin above
Howl pierces the darkness
Echoes seem disinterested in replying
Shoulders yield a head topped torso
Its form testing movement
Tasting escape upon the night
Decay reborn as embodiment
Our fears break free to run wild
It soft footsteps allow shadows to part
The gentle tap upon the shoulder
As sincere as the handshake
“It will be perfect!” She exclaims “Out here… We can be free. A green house with every environmental feature.”
“Imagine all laminate floors and steel beams to save the trees…. After they take out those on the middle where the house will go.” He smiles. “The dream house.. Once they tear out that horrific brown stuff growing where the sod should be.”
“Our own 3200 square foot 3 bedroom, 3 and half bath place for us two!” she looks at the full-size SUV. “And the dogs.”
“It’ll look so much better when they build the other 35 homes here. Nice manicured yards. This country life is really what we looked forward to.” he smiles back at her.
“Ouch!” she swats at a mosquito “We’ll need an exterminator! And a lawn care guy. But they have to be green.”
This week’s photo prompt is provided by Grant-Sud. Thank you Grant-Sud!
“The charges are very serious! Do you have anything to say on your behalf?” The judge scowls down at his rebel rouser.
“It’s a smiley face. Hardy gang markings… I mean the old man there is a grump like you…sir.” Manny looks down for another answer on his shoes “Why can’t you people smile once in awhile?”
The judge looks perplexed. “Why I smile! I smile all the time around here. Don’t I Julie?”
The court stenographer looks back a little shocked. “Yes, sir”
“We have a serous job. There are consequences for things. We need to show that here. But I still smile. We try to have…. fun.” the judge smiles like it hurts him Yes, we try to have fun here.”
“I thought a chalk smile was fun! Something nice to see” Manny smiles.
“Chalk, did you say chalk? I’m really wasting my time on graffiti charges!” the judge loses his smile again. “Prosecutor! Give me those pictures and one hell of any explanation!”
1. turn signal
4. swain [a young lover or suitor|a country youth]
5. gibbous moon [any moon that appears more than half lighted but less than full is called a gibbous moon. The word gibbous comes from a root word that means hump-backed]
6. fen [a low and marshy or frequently flooded area of land|flat low-lying areas of eastern England, formerly marshland but largely drained for agriculture since the 17th century|wetland with alkaline, neutral, or only slightly acid peaty soil]
8. bombshell [an overwhelming surprise or disappointment|a very attractive woman|an artillery shell]
9. Lilliputian [trivial or very small|a trivial or very small person or thing|early 18th century: from the imaginary country of Lilliput in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, inhabited by people 6 inches (15 cm) high]
10. mawkish [sentimental in a feeble or sickly way|having a faint sickly flavor]
I would pester her. The brunette bombshell whose melodious voice could corrupt my every thought. But like some mawkish lilliputian werewolf want-to-be, I waited upon a gibbous moon to become full and set me free.
I realize with no car in the garage, i was no more than a swain. The person driving down the road left turn signal stuck on like i had no idea when to turn. And when i did, there I was stuck in fen, knee deep in ooze.
You challenge me with a route teeming with pretense. I should jump at the dearth of shock you attempt. How is it possible one could care so lightly? Not as individual drug, nor bulk helps to deal with you.
“I love the sound of the river. God, those engines fighting the inevitable current! They surge!” Timothy taps his fingers on a wooden crate. “If they stop, the thing goes sideways.”
Timothy tugs down the brim of his ball cap. His eyes roll along the viaduct. Empty as always during the morning. The Sun has yet to bring out the second round of fishermen.
“Well, time to loosen the load. I hope you can swim….” Timothy’s voice raises slightly. “Oh yeah…Good luck with the crate, ropes and gag.”
Timothy pushes the long narrow crate to the edge of the tailgate. A sudden shift in weight drops it to the concrete surface inches from the water.
“Don’t worry those bags of sand won’t hurt soon. The water takes all that weight away. It sounds like it knocked the wind out of you.” Timothy pushes it end over end til a loud splash splits the surface.
“Are you sure someone can read it in a hundredth of a second?” Shiela looks upward.
“World’s Greatest Psychic seemed presumptuous, so…” Gabriel looks at her.
“But can they read it?!” Shiela questions
I struggle with my fringe power. It’s mysteries swirl then list like shooting star. My brain storms new roads to charge down. At last comes a sigh. I have gone nowhere.
Like creamer in coffee
Filaments loosely connected
Running like a child
Splashed like a mud puddle
Togetherness for chaos sake only
Rainbow raindrops falling
Without landing on thirty ground
Their mystery cloaked in abstract
Scattered puzzle pieces
Awaiting the hand to assemble
Only fear is that they are meaningless