????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
One is downstairs, screaming. Another is off being a carpenter with relatives. The
Other is emulating me, only six years later. The Special One is acting. Not play-acting, but work-acting. There is a difference.
But soon I will go to get the Special One. It will probably be waiting for me, as I am often late. But the Special One doesn’t seem to mind. It smiles and kisses me.
One does mind. When I am often late. It tells me not to be late, or, at least, to tell it when I will be. But I never do. I suppose I worry One most of the time. I don’t really mean to. But I do.
Another gets mad at me when I’m late too. But, I think it gets mad because One gets
mad. They both often get mad together.
The Other doesn’t really care if I’m late or not. It understands. At least, it understands better than One or Another. But not as well as the Special One.
Another extends ahead the least. Only a short way. Of course, it extends behind the
most. One’s extension behind is so much like Another’s as to be almost identical, just a little shorter. However, its extension ahead is a bit longer.
My extensions are, as of yet, undefined. That is my nature. The Other’s extension is known very well, but never discussed. (You want to ask ‘why?’ again, don’t you? Well, do not ask.)
????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
“But, why Pilgrims?” the Special One says as I drive my Orange down the ugliest road in the world.
“Yes,” I answer, my mind a maze of horrifying logic, “Why indeed...”
“I mean,” it continues, “Dogs I could possibly understand, but Pilgrims? Never.”
We ride on in silence. After several days we stop listening to the radio and begin
singing. The song is about relatives and carpenters.
In the song, the Special One and I walk into a cloudy wooden room, filled with people.
Strange Armenian songs are being played on bag pipes by the Ugly Dwarf with Red
Sneakers, who is standing in the corner, his zipper wide open.
The Bartender is chanting an odd funeral dirge in some strange Asiatic language, very rapidly, into a radio microphone. On the mike the letters WORM blink on and off every four seconds. I think to myself, “They must be the call letters,” but the Special One says, “No, that’s his name.”
“Oh,” I think, “His name. His name. His name.”
An extremely obese woman of about 30 is playing with a huge hula hoop in the center
of the room. She is wearing a plaid raincoat, and I recognize her as a famous Christian Scientist.
Several teenagers are erecting an igloo under a ping pong table on the far side of the room. I ask the Special One if it plays ping pong, but it doesn’t reply for quite a while.
The song ends, so I pull my Orange over to the side of the road and take it out of gear.
“This is as far as I’m going,” I say.
The Special One just smiles.
???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
One is downstairs, screaming. Another is off being a carpenter with relatives. The
Other is emulating me, only six years later. The Special One is acting. Not play-acting, but work-acting. There is a difference.
But soon I will go to get the Special One. It will probably be waiting for me, as I am often late. But the Special One doesn’t seem to mind. It smiles and kisses me.
One does mind. When I am often late. It tells me not to be late, or, at least, to tell it when I will be. But I never do. I suppose I worry One most of the time. I don’t really mean to. But I do.
Another gets mad at me when I’m late too. But, I think it gets mad because One gets
mad. They both often get mad together.
The Other doesn’t really care if I’m late or not. It understands. At least, it understands better than One or Another. But not as well as the Special One.
Another extends ahead the least. Only a short way. Of course, it extends behind the
most. One’s extension behind is so much like Another’s as to be almost identical, just a little shorter. However, its extension ahead is a bit longer.
My extensions are, as of yet, undefined. That is my nature. The Other’s extension is known very well, but never discussed. (You want to ask ‘why?’ again, don’t you? Well, do not ask.)
????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
“But, why Pilgrims?” the Special One says as I drive my Orange down the ugliest road in the world.
“Yes,” I answer, my mind a maze of horrifying logic, “Why indeed...”
“I mean,” it continues, “Dogs I could possibly understand, but Pilgrims? Never.”
We ride on in silence. After several days we stop listening to the radio and begin
singing. The song is about relatives and carpenters.
In the song, the Special One and I walk into a cloudy wooden room, filled with people.
Strange Armenian songs are being played on bag pipes by the Ugly Dwarf with Red
Sneakers, who is standing in the corner, his zipper wide open.
The Bartender is chanting an odd funeral dirge in some strange Asiatic language, very rapidly, into a radio microphone. On the mike the letters WORM blink on and off every four seconds. I think to myself, “They must be the call letters,” but the Special One says, “No, that’s his name.”
“Oh,” I think, “His name. His name. His name.”
An extremely obese woman of about 30 is playing with a huge hula hoop in the center
of the room. She is wearing a plaid raincoat, and I recognize her as a famous Christian Scientist.
Several teenagers are erecting an igloo under a ping pong table on the far side of the room. I ask the Special One if it plays ping pong, but it doesn’t reply for quite a while.
The song ends, so I pull my Orange over to the side of the road and take it out of gear.
“This is as far as I’m going,” I say.
The Special One just smiles.
???????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????????
- Last seen on Jul 7 3:31 AM. Member since August 17, 2008.
- I'm a emerald dog poet for 8 comments.
- My mood is
, and quote is "the cow mood". - I am a guy from California (United States)
- I have 8 comments, 26 poems, 5 stories
Poems I'm focused on
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All alchemy always allowed!
Alternative altitudes altogether altered!100 lines, 2 comments, August 17, 2008
My Poetry
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parabola of a parachute shuts
paradigm dimes deem paradise dicey8 lines, 1 comment, May 29 -
Remember, my good friend,
You are the very best you can be, right now, today.14 lines, May 21 -
I'm grateful for your encouragement,
You allow me to allow you to make me a better man.18 lines, May 19 -
Because I tried to hold so tightly
Something I had held so dear,34 lines, 1 comment, February 23
My Stories
1 - 3 of 5
Show all at storywrite
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So Plastic Man, Reed Richards, and Ralph Dibny (Elongated Man) happen to be chatting while using the Justice League urinals....20 lines, September 5, 2008. In <600 words
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5673 lines, 2 comments, August 30, 2008. In 600-2000 words, >5000 words
Guest Book
1 - 2 of 2
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Judith Chandler : Not a good page on February 5for people with weak eyes!
Interesting though -
movedon : mylee winked! on August 18, 2008YOU'VE JUST BEEN MYLEEWINKED!
