My child has some building blocks. He made a tower out of them. I had 1 adventure in that tower. And I swallowed a string of pears. How valuable. I felt bad. In my belly the pearls multiplied.
The man with the shears came back, walked up to me. Stark naked. He looked at his collection of books. The pages weren't cut. An owl cried in the nighttime. I began to cry. The pearls came out my eyes. Tiny tiny pearls fell onto the floor. I couldn't stop crying. The man watched. He wanted those pearls.
I panicked. My tears stopped and I darted for the stage. My entrance was right on cue. The director was worried. The opera house was full of puppets. All the puppets were held by deaf dumb and blind middle-aged men & women. The puppets had their eyes glued on me. A violin was thrown at me from the back of the hall. I caught it and began to play. The tune came straight from my heart. My mouth was open and cakes and pastries were shoved down it. I became full. And tired. But I did not stop playing. My audience was filled with joy. I was nearly to the end of the second act when I noticed strings wrapped around my fingers. Which on the other end was tied to the chandelier. Cascading from the chandelier were more strings which proceeded through the nostrils and into the brain of the deaf dumb and blind men & women. I was controlling my audience. But through their eyes came tears.
My fingers were flying up and down the violin. Out of tune and overly simplistic. The deaf dumb and blind people threw their puppets onto the floor and tore their hair out and screamed. A mass hysteria broke out. The ran about. Groping for the exits. An angel appeared to me. He had 4 wings. He took my violin and lovingly put it into storage.
I leapt off the stage. My arms legs and torso beautifully arranged. It was my split second of pure art. The moans of my audience drowned out the call of the curtain. Nobody was happy. I wanted to return to my valley. I didn't know it, but all vegetation and animal life burned down to the ground. Leaving only dust and ashes. The sun was about to set. In my pocket I found the poem. It was a great poem. Although to my skeptical mind it was only coordinates for seashells.
25,40.
89,22.
104,54.
88,51.
94,11. There is no point of reference. The beeps and whistles and honks from the dial-up computer. The scratching at the coffin ceiling. The bells ringing for me and my gal. The clicks and the magical words spoken by the tongues of the faeries. Sitting upon mushrooms pungent and mushy. Flower petals make their wings. They grant wishes. That's what they do. I have it on good solid testimony. The hysterical young lady caught in her own web of lies. I trust her. She's not the obvious choice. She flips around her wig and reveals my lovers face on the other side. She wears sunglasses but I can tell she's looking at me. Her elbows buckle and thumbs pop off. The fingernails grow long and touch my face. Her waist is a hinge. It's usually hidden by a blouse. Her legs turn around. Her breasts are still on her back. That's all the jury can see of her. Her only distinguishing mark. 36D.
In this quiet solemn but extremely hot chamber. The red eyed rats fill the chairs, benches, corners & nooks. They swarm and collect into a large pile. Then they stop moving and turn grey. To stone. An ugly mess - this stone sculpture. On top is the microphone. Perhaps one of the rats wanted to make a speech.
Everyone else in the courtroom turned to stone as well. I guess they were bored. It's just my lover and I. I sew on her thumbs. She is grateful. She playfully grabbed my nose. "Give me back my nose" I playfully replied. We ran out of the courthouse into the street. She jumps into a car knowing I'd follow. "I still have your nose" she calls. Of course I still had my nose and it was just a childish game. The car drives away. The driver was a ghost. I watch as it turns the corner. She'll be safe. And I'll be safe. We'll meet again in that valley. In the moonlight we'll kiss. The things I'm gonna do.
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