Thursday, August 13, 2009

Last Nite

The moon a toe of garlic suspended from the heavens - still - silent and glowing with a sense of satisfaction. White cotton batting clouds cling to the edges of the toe garlic moon in celebration of beauty. Tiny, tinny stars sparkle with enthusiasm and hypnotise pale blue eyes to the far away world of night.

Wind is undeniably sleeping again beneath the blaze of lights scattered across the blue blackness of eternal space. The great metal flying cranes of the night sky have taken a detour from their usual pathway. Silence is the main ingredient.

Curtains of air thick and drippy wait for instructions. A knife wielding chef would be unable to dice, chop or slice through the translucent molecules. Every breathe is felt with urgency and delight.

A whirring sound makes its entrance into the perfect picture of night. Mosquito sprays of death foul the air and corrupt the evening sensation. Gaseous odors flow easily with destruction their main objective. Eventually the air absorbs the fumes and the remains fall unnoticed upon the floor of the earth. Solitude and silence are restored - if only for a few moments.

A soft rumbling noise, barely a noise yet, brings forward images of a baby rustling against the soft baby sheets and warm footed sleeping cargo that encase the soft squirming body. A slight sound that brings to the surface a warm tingling feeling. Bubbling like soda pop.

Butter yellow and gumball pink lights explode behind gigantic white taffy looking clouds. The cracking soft as a kittens purr melts with the artistic painting making its way from behind the clouds. Night almost becomes day as the parade of lights continue to splash wildly against the blue black of night.

The toe garlic moon pulses with life while the not so angry light sprinkles fireworks for the audience. Thick chunky air begins to thin and sway with the rhythm of the storm. A musical melody as cymbals clash, drummers drum and the pied piper calls us all to follow. The toe garlic moon takes a bow and fades from the stage.
A slow salty tear trickles down the landscape of skin and smile to the destination of euphoria. An audience of one has experienced the essence of life.

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