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Where Graffiti Walls Stay Sandstorms And Tunnels With Water Nature Clouds And Mind Clouds and Proud Ship May 27, 2007 Where Graffiti Walls Stay Ravines where graffiti walls stay. Small purple plums frozen in time. Handsome brown synagogues square and curt. The terror of church. Blue polyester pants and boredom. Green fields of armories where tanks sit in the sun. Plaques of the dead. Graveyards with winding paths. Mexican restaurants, and nearby they make tombstones. Car accidents by the 7-11 and the poor people come to watch. Driving through the world. Dancing girls by poles, smiling. Smog and ruin, or a lesbian cashier. Night terrors. Water. Corduroy that is brown. Lost chains in the dirt. Families of foxes. Frustrated cops. Music or gray chairs. Holes cut through window screens. Chimneys. Stones. Fireplace tools. Knives. Trees. Curtains. Rust. Copper pipes. Full hoppers. Black gates. Garter snakes. Floods. Ghosts. Movies and songs. Rafts that overturn. Yellow and blue in the bright day. Women in red dresses. Saints. Souls. Sweaters. Shawls. Macaroons and maidens. Buses that go and go, and soon the neighborhoods are strange, more crowded. The cool air of night, like a phantom come to town. Gowns. The bride on her wedding day. Malls. Milkshakes and karma. Someone singing while they walk. Ravines where graffiti walls stay. Sandstorms And Tunnels With Water Sandstorms and tunnels with water. Gray sky falcons with hard eyes. Black desks and fan motors. Powerboats gliding and the anchor is nice enough. Metal tubes. Casinos with waterfalls, and the lights shine there, underneath there are rocks, and all around there are plants. Tanned rich people, jewelry and black cars. Chrome comes to mind. Oranges and beavers are far away. Lakes and their secrets are far away. Big wallets and black hearts are near. Big ways where the air is thick with bells. Banana split dreams, and serpents or queens, roughing in the space for the path of the psyche. Standing in the shade. Valet parking. Gods and worms. Huge windows where the ants smile. Old mammas shake maracas in the middle of Jupiter, and the streams are deeply joyous. Speakers, screens, podiums and props. Suited, booted, ramshackle nuns and sugarcane guns. Hats, flats, bats, rats, cats. Darts and starts. Miles and miles of street. In the night the old dogs meet. In the night the strange owls greet. Small watercrafts take us there, and we have an inner pause while we wear autumn’s sweaters. Sandstorms and tunnels with water. Nature Clouds And Mind Clouds It was a bad idea to go back to that bar. It was only ten minutes or so down the way, but the group had already had a bad dinner there. Nothing good could come of it. He went there though, with the woman. He had been talking about something, and the woman had listened intently. He thought she was interested in the conversation. She had decided she was interested in him. They started the walk but a cab pulled over and it was a small yellow cab. They hopped in. It drove them down to the outside of the bar. Inside, they ordered drinks. There were no other patrons around. They went across the road, and that is where the bigger place was, where people converged after-hours. That is the road where a pill-popping woman that didn’t speak English wandered in midday once, and when people stopped to help her a man in a truck became irate and yelled out that this was not a game. People meant business. The world was a serious place, a no-nonsense place. There, in the second bar, they drank, but there was something wrong in the air, and they should not have been there. It wasn’t a good group of people. After some time, they left, and it was the woman that came onto the man. He did not like how she looked. She would be considered by some to be good-looking enough, but nothing she had worked for him. Her eyes were too small, and set too close together. She grabbed at him, and they lay on the ground and talked. Soon they got up, and walked on. It was wind that blew the clouds past the moon. He had made a mistake by drinking so much, but she had drunk more, as she had been drinking through the day. He got her up to the apartment and she followed him out to the balcony where he had gone to be alone. She was naked, and wrapped in a bed sheet. She asked him to kiss her, but he refused. She sat there talking loudly. Soon she went in, and then he went in. He slept on a couch, and she slept on another couch. He tried not to think of her. He tried the best he could to think of the clouds blowing past the moon and making strange shapes. He thought that it was a childish thing to try and think of, but it was better than thinking about the woman. He secretly wished the woman was more attractive, and that her eyes were brown, and not green. He then thought of the clouds again. Nobody knew the clouds at night. Nobody cared how much they blew around, or where they went to. In the morning, he was startled when he got up and felt fine because he was expecting to have a hangover. He didn’t realize that he was still drunk, and that his hangover would begin later. He decided to go to church, and there he listened to the old preacher and his monotone sermon. At some point, someone was asked to stand up, and everyone clapped because the person was a convert, and then the person sat down again. When the church service ended, the hangover began. He started to feel very uneasy, and needed food, water, aspirin, caffeine, but it would be some time before he could get to any of it. The sun was not helping him, and he was with other people, going other places, like to a store where they sold fresh fish. Someone was buying tuna fish to put into some sort of sauce. He began to falter more and more, and staggered in the sun. He felt like he had been poisoned. Later, in the backseat of the car, he saw the world go past, and the world looked like it would be fine if he had been fine. He regretted many things, but most of all he regretted the night before, and going back out to challenge the night when he knew he would lose. Now he had lost, and was crumbling. He sat in a parking lot to try and get some air, and a white security car drove nearby. A mild paranoia set in. Why would the car think he was sitting there? Why should someone sit on a curb in a parking lot in the middle of the day? He was his own worst enemy. He could get up, and should get up, yet he couldn’t get up. It didn’t fit. He felt like the world was all sharp edges. The sun made too much light reflecting off of cars. Why did he not take care to wear sunglasses like other people? His throat was dry. Why did he not bring a water bottle? There was the car circling back. There must have been trouble in that huge lot; he would be mistaken for someone he was not, in the sense that someone would ascribe motivations to him that weren’t true. He was stuck there though as he was waiting for his ride. Soon, after an eternity, they came, and he slowly got up and into the car, forcing a smile on his lips, lips that weren’t meant to smile. Proud Ship There was a large building and on the side of it a tall ship was painted. The ship sailed under a clear sky for the most part, though there were a few clouds here and there. The ship made its way and there was detail in the masts, in the wood, in the water, and especially in the waves. At night there were a few lights that shone from the ground up at the wall, at the painting, but they didn’t reach to the top of the wall. The wall was four or five stories tall. Since it was lit, but not fully, it looked like the ship was making its way through the sea at night. This is how the ship had its days and nights, and received all the nuance of different degrees of light in between. It saw storms, long sunny moments, crowds conglomerating, and its share of loneliness. After years it began to fade, and started to look more and more like a ghost ship. It was waiting for someone to renew it, and perhaps someone would. Until then, it had to both plough ahead and be still at the same time. ------------ Email Brian Michael Barbeito: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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