it had been a long walk
he wasnt tired
he had anticipated it
he slung a rucksack over his shoulder inside
it were four other books so he could change his entertainment between
themchange channels as it were when one
storyline or subject began to weary him he entered another book
as a result his walks were never
laborious
not as long as he
could read as he walked
the morning had become afternoon
and afternoon was beginning to submit the light failing the sun setting
he pulled upstopped walking and
stood in one place on the sidewalk beside Main oblivious of the sparse traffic had
there been other pedestrians he would have acknowledged them but they were few
and far between
standing fast he finished the
astonishing page he was reading The Soul of an Octopus
if the light held he wouldnt have
put it away
the book was the choicest morsel
and he purposefully held off for it to be like dessert after dinner he liked the idea of dessert but
since he lived alone he didnt have it afterwards he anticipated hed walk unentertained
though yet chewing and tonguing and ruminating upon the realisations the books
offered and also on imagined
possibilities that occurred to him and churned his mind
recently he
began texting them to himself and later able to sort them and elaborate
he was never truly not
entertained
he walked approximately fourteen
milesfourteen miles absorbed in history fascism poetry and erotica Nin and Miller knew their stuff piqued his ardor by his figuring hed be home as
dark fell a mere mile and a half away
the last bit of his walk now was removed
from words and their characters gone he
was curious what would arrest his attentionhow would he wander
he closed the book on his finger and
looked uplooked at the sky
there was his ridiculous answer
the clouds
an
amber whale spirit surged north working its way towards the flashing sun that
broke between thunderheads its sudden rays celestial beacons a brilliant lighthouse
working against a quiet fog waves broke
on the leviathans flank as surf would break on a sandy atoll a reef exposed at
low tide and boiled and sputtered and rinsed away
huge orange birds flew over its
back eyeing the sea for hapless fish that fled before it
now walking again he slowly turned
his gaze east and saw that the moon had risen it was nearly full a gleaming
white orb a grinning polished skull there
for a moment then absorbedswallowed by long
entwined coiled gray snakes gray thunderheads that possibly were weeping rain
thirtyforty miles away or turning men and women into stone who dared to gaze at
Medusa
a soft rain began he thought hed make home before it began not a terrible game to lose
he placed a bookmarker and closed The Soul and slipped it safely among its brethren
in the rucksack
the whale submerged the birds dissipated
the lighthouse was cloaked yet a dull coppery light persisted
the rain softly beating the trees
and earth and structures made them submit he heard them inhaleheard them exhale then speak
over each other a delicious cacophony a sensuous murmuring and in the air he could smell the perfume fragrance
ordours of their breaths
it reminded him of opium
2018, Sunday,
17 2. 19
1119, Day-between-Two-Ts, 20 2.
19
