old story i like

“They separated our minds when we left.” She said to me in that calm, seductive, matter of fact way that made me grow on her. I uprooted myself and crawled across the hardwood floor. I believe she was reading the gospel. Her blue hair was wild and unnecessary as she paced back and forth along the far wall. My pink vase is pastel and vague on the table across the room. The scuffed hardwood floor is running into the wall at oddly placed ninety-degree angles. The dull green walls fray my vision.

“Come back here!” She grabs for my dirty anchors, as I drag them across the floor. I manage to get just barely out of her reach and hide behind the armchair. The golden sinews decorating the purple fabric are breathtaking. I begin to search for a way out of this home. I crawl along the wall hoping she will lapse aimlessly into the TV once again, in which case I could make my daring escape.

But no, she is at the couch tearing at the pillows and blankets and throwing them wildly in the air. She screams, “Where are you? In the name of God, I hate you! Get back here! Where are you?” and rummages through the drawer. I crawl behind the couch and try to head for the vent. Slowly I drag my uprooted strands across the shape of the carpet, with pieces of dirt long left behind me. I think if I get to the grate I can get to the floor below me, and maybe outside from there.

The woman is calm now, staring into her tv and crying. She smiles, looks to her left and spots me. “I’m glad I got out of that one alive,” and smiles. “We all revert to a life of crime in the end, and we face these people every day. Walking around, knowing what they know, doing there important things, big cars, fancy houses and regular every day things, too.”

I stand up, all but six inches tall. My green leaves much darker than the pale walls. The painting across from me but above her dipped to the right. The red dragon on the left had finally gained on the green tortoise. I lifted my head and noted the lights she had posted now above me. Glued them with tack, I noted, good glue.

She was becoming enthralled in her book again. It gave her the kind of excitement that never let her down. The kind of imagination that she didn’t need friends, she had them. She was happy. She spoke softly to her self and then laughed frantically. She pointed at the man and searched the book again.

I stood up as tall as I could. I dove forward and jumped again. I carefully pulled myself through the vent and below the floorboards. My pulse raced and I began looking for an escape plan. I ran towards the dark and kept going, I saw a vent and stopped to look in it.

A doctor was helping a young man out of his coat. Her lab was set in front of her. The shark had nowhere to go. He sat on a desk near the doctor, who began to reveal her breasts. She showed the young man her intentions and he calmly began to kiss her.

I lifted my petals and looked towards the dark once again. I stumbled, dragging my anchors behind me. The dirt had rubbed off and they were beginning to hurt. My arms thumbed their way across the wood as I neared the next vent.

Two children were sitting at small desks in front of a larger red haired woman in a checkered shirt. Her pink skin was bulging out of a formal shirt. She looked like she was about to explode and kept pointing at markings on the dark wall. Darker than my skin, I thought, but not now. I looked for myself but found none. I was certain I was there, but I was not. My curves and folds had vanished. All I saw was the red haired woman, now slightly aggravated at the small inner city apes. She stomped and swore and her body shook and shivered, but the children were unfazed.

I moved to the next grate and saw him at last. There were two people sitting over him. The rug spiraled around them. One man adjusted his sunglasses. The other brushed his black suit. The younger one shifted his hat and the elder cleared his throat, and spoke in a tongue I could not understand.

He was dead. I saw him there. Limp, lifeless, free and dead. I nearly fell out of their sky but I held on. I stumbled backwards, feeding off of generic impulses at a primal level. I had to get outside, this much I knew. I walked further down my dusty hallway, thru the wires and rust these people lived on. I found my way to the back wall. I felt the air breathe outside; I felt the blue sky and the stars. I slipped through the nearest vent and fell on a large wooden beam.

I dove from the beam and landed on the ground. I sprung up and dashed for the doorway. I slid under the door and onto cement. I felt it, finally, the sun on my skin. I breathed. I truly felt alive for the first time. I stumbled down the edge of the landing and fell onto the grass. I slid my broken legs into the soft dirt and felt the cold cement on the other side. I smiled and looked towards the sky. A young girl in light pink skipped by me singing, running and then grabbing the leg of her father. He kneeled down and smiled at me, gave her a kiss on the forehead and whispered something into her ear, making her laugh.

The young girl ran inside. Her father followed her, his breeze moved closer and he looked at me and smiled. He bent down and smelled me, sighing and content. I sighed as well. I have breathed the air, I have felt the sun, and I know the earth. I believe I am happy.

songs about hats.

The Bus Depot

I wore a red cap one day

Left it at the bus stop

I wonder about it still

Did someone pick it up?

Was it worn with the

Same sort of reverence

I once wore it with?

Was it worn at all?

Was it thrown into the trash bin?

The one stooping outside the bus depot.

Was it taken to a second hand store?

Was it cleaned and given as a gift?

Or is it still sitting there?

Just over in the corner,

Gathering dust

Never to be noticed

Never to be worn again

Next time I am in Prince George

I will have to go to that bus stop

Perhaps I will find my hat.

Hat Haiku

I had that hat once,

Was a gift for my mother,

I want it back, please

Another Hat

This hat is not worth the trouble

Of picking a fight with you

This hat is draining my energy

And all I’ve done is fight with you

This hat can’t hide the secret

I’m having a hard time, too

This hat is not worth the trouble

Of picking a fight with you

Stranger in My Hat

I apologize for my resilience

But I know where you found that hat

It was sitting in the bus station

I came all the way to this city

Just to track down that hat

Came 300 miles, I did

Just to find a rat

Wearing my mothers hat

Now I’m not trying to start an argument

As you seem to consistently insist

If you look at it from my angle, man

It is as easy, as simple as this

That hat does not belong to you

It doesn’t suit your hair do

I came all the way here just to

Track down that hat for my mother

I’m not saying you took it on purpose

I agree, it’s a beautiful hat

If I had found that in the bus station

There is no way I’d ever give it back

But you must understand, good sir

I’ve traveled this land, to be sure

To find that dear hat

And take it back

Not to be a bother

For it is a gift for my mother

Now give me the damned hat back!

Recapture of the Hat

He threw me the hat

With a phrase to the effect

Of a statement of fact

He purchased the hat

But he left it at that

And ran out of the station

In fear

Sonnet of my Hat

What a wonderful red cap

I must put it on my head

Like applause the thunder clapped

As I pulled a loose thread

I feel like my life has worth

I should relax and call my mother

She gave me this like my birth

And I will wear no other

I must use the payphone in the lobby

And tell her I have finally found the hat

Chasing people down is not my hobby

But it was still something at that

I will use the silver payphone

And call my mother at home

Final Chapter

I reached the phone

With a quarter in my hand

I pulled my hand

To call my mother at home

With a quarter in my hand

I was hoping to find my mom

To call my mother at home

Back in the East Vancouver slum

I was hoping to find my mom

To talk to her again

In that East Vancouver slum

So she could be my friend

To talk to her again

Moving forward with my world

So she could be my friend

My oldest love, my girl

Moving forward to the world

With a quarter in my hand

My oldest love, my girl

To call my mother at home

Paris will never be the same again

It was written on a wall near the subway

What we have lost is somebody’s gain

Sliding down an airport runway

We had decided to pitch our ideas

To a clove of marketeers

See if we could sell it

Before the markets got darker

The last lick of light

Falling from the room

Or the day at high noon

We’ll fall asleep soon

Since we’ve arrived

We drank and lit matches

To light up the snuff box

Or relight the candles

Since we’ve arrived

We’ve drank dirty water

For lack of options

It is too black at night here

We wrapped of silk mind shades

Around broken tree trunks

Without sounding a gun

But with lights that we hung

Since we’ve arrived

We’ve drank dirty water

For lack of options

It is too black at night here

We left in a fury

After dispatching our plan

We were those who lived to tell you

Paris will never be the same again

a little mad boy

A Little Mad Boy

 

I called it afternoon

I dropped down to the basket

Asked her to confuse me

Spoke like a sliding ape

 

The little mad boy mumbles at me

Nobody else can see him

But he is right beside me

His hair is greasy and long

He buried an American flag

Crossed his arms and wiped them off

 

I called it afternoon

But it was mid morning

I stammered while I was corrected

It was the tone of the voice

That tore me

 

The little mad boy jumps to his feet

He puts on his hat and belittles my space

He twists his cane bat and drips from the chin

He holds me in chain and slides me all in

He takes a rhyme scheme and trusts I don’t live

The devil himself

That is who he is

 

He told me it was morning

The little mad boy

Swore I never seen a vice

Laughing he clasps his hands twice

Here to set things right

I felt the same

So we got up to leave

Coffee and cigarettes were nice

Moleman

This is the story of Moleman as it was related to me around a campfire on a school camping trip in the Okanagan. He is said to live in holes and caves in the forests around Lake Okanagan, though there have been incidents as far away as the Sushwap. He is often seen picking sage and it is said that he does not take souls while doing so. If you see Moleman while he not picking sage you usually do not return home to tell the tale.

Enjoy,

  
He sat in the pines waiting for the leaves to change. 
There was a park bench there, made from an old tree stump. He sat and touched his fingers together, aimlessly whittling away at his soul. A nearly empty pouch sat beside him on the far side of the old tree. A grey strap of wool held the pouch to his arm. He was hoping to come across a trader or an adventurer at these crossroads, but he found nothing.
  
He was miles from anyone, he felt sure of that. He made a sign of a cross on his chest aimlessly attempting a prayer for food. He was tired, as he had walked twenty miles that day. His water had run out and his last bit of meat was at the tips of his fingers. He pulled his fingers to hip lips and bit the jerk beef. He smiled as he swallowed and his eyes drifted towards the forest. A dragonfly flew past him creating a trail through the air. He watched in fascination.
  
The man sat alone on the bench watching the leaves begin to fall for the north’s hibernation one more time. He tapped the wood and whistled for a few minutes. He felt content in the life he had made for himself. The man looked to the left and in his eye a black dot traced the empty woods. He tried to follow the hallucination and fell towards his knees. After pausing for a moment he stood up, uneasily.
  
He heard a crack in the woods that was quickly followed by birds chirping. He took two steps towards it before moving towards his pouch. When the woods cracked again the man decided it was only a deer and sat once again. He took the other bite of his meat and watched the ground. He saw nothing and pressed his boot against some long grass. He followed an insect across the brown earth and swallowed.
  
The man imagined a mailbox across the meadow from him. He imagined children playing and an old English white cottage house, on a dirt road. “Beautiful woods for a family,” he said to the insect, “You must be very happy.” He reached his hand towards the earth and picked up a twig. He rapped it against the bench and began to whistle once again.
  
When he was brought back to the forest there was a man standing in front of him. The man wore a long black robe. He had a staff in his right hand that showed signs of age and wisdom. His face could not be seen but when he spoke the first man shivered. “In the Willows is my name,” he muttered. “You haven’t seen me here.”
  
The man leapt from his seat. The woods were empty again. He spun on his heels before settling looking at the bench. The rings were prominent in the stump. This was an old tree. He settled his nerves on the faded green surroundings just as a large brown leaf fell on the bench. He focused his energy on the stem. The leaf turn brown rather quickly and the traveller blinked so he could look at it again. His eyes squeezed shut and his nose and eyebrows came together under the pressure of the spasm. He tried to calm his nerves, fighting to force his eyes open. When he could he searched inside his pouch for the cure.
  
He proceeded to pull a leaf of mint from his bag and placed the plant on his lips. His feet were sore, but he decided it best to continue to walk. He headed east on the flat road. He passed the meadow quickly and hoped to fetch some water. He knew there was a stream a half a mile down the road. If he could make it there he could rest for the night.
  
He followed a black dot in his eye towards the road. He imagined little workers pulling his legs forward. He began to recite a poem he liked, quoting from various parts and trying to remember their order. “Any little game to pass the time,” he sung to himself. The black dot became smaller and he imagined a bird flying past, it was too large to be native to this area but the cry was that of an eagle. He imagined it breathed fire and it instantly became a tapestry wrapped around him. He was comfortable and began to drift into a dream state. The large eagle wrapped its silken ties around him and he followed the steps towards the signpost.
  
He reached the signpost that marked his way towards the stream. The man began to speak loudly and clearly, “It is not a time for panic, sir. You are on a marked path. The road in near the water, we will be fine.” He followed the path downhill towards the water. He began to whistle again, rounding the final curve to fresh water. He raised his head to see two small girls wearing white dresses.
  
The woods danced and the black dot engulfed the two girls before charging towards the man and knocking him towards the bushes behind him. The man jerked to his left and fell into the dirt. He rolled to his back and sat watching the two girls run towards him in painfully slow motion. He was scared. The girl’s pigtails stood on end and their heads began to morph into a red two-headed demon.
  
The creature became feral, growing each head a mane and lengthing its neck. The body had four red legs capped with black hooves. It growled, eyes twinkling and showed a crooked smile of razor sharp teeth. It was as large as a black bear but wearing ancient Japanese Samurai armor. Its faces smiled and winked their pairs of eyes. The creature and the man sat on the ground in a strangely peaceful moment and the creatures heads rested on the dirt. Suddenly, a line of fire  wrapped around the beast and burnt the man’s leg.
  
The man jumped to his feet and made the sign of the cross with his fingers. He backed away from the creature reciting prayers. He moved backwards up to the road and stopped. The woods were empty once again. The man wiped his brow and shuffled his feet in the dust. He searched the road and forest for the wizard he must have encountered. He found nothing.
  
The man decided to continue walking and find the nearest town, so he could find a bed to sleep in. “A safe room would be lovely tonight,” he said to himself. “If only you could make it to the road,” a voice replied. The man walked faster through the woods. A dark cloud began to form around him and he was tripped by a piece of string tied across the path. He felt the string with his finger in disbelief.
  
He sat on the ground and the man in the black robe stepped in front of him. He placed his staff on the mans chest and spoke, “In the Willows is my name. You haven’t seen me here.” The man shivered and began to cry, “What do you want?” In the Willows kept his staff against the man before stating coldly, “None shall pass.”
  
The man was alone once again. He stood and ran to the east, trying to reach the town as fast as he could. He turned his head to see behind him and In the Willows was standing in the path. His staff was throbbing with light. The earth began to shake and a vine was sent spiraling out towards the screaming man. The vine wrapped around his ankles and he fell to the ground. He was being pulled towards the black robed man. He was screaming and flailing his arms.
  
The man reached the end of In the Willows’ staff and was struck in the ankle as the vine vanished in front of his eyes. The man was struck in the temple and curled into the fetal position. The black robed man spoke. His face was finally visible, grey haired with a long stringy beard. His eyes were grey and he smiled, “None shall pass.”
In the Willows proceeding to reach behind himself, placing his hands on a large potato sack. Starting at his paralyzed ankles In the Willows slowly pulled the traveler into his bag. The man was screaming and crying. He swung his arms before In the Willows put his finger on his forehead, paralyzing him. The man screamed as the wizard closed and tied his bag. Seconds later, the woods were empty once again.