Mysteries

when he call himself out 

--  Where the hell do you think youre going

he screamed

--  Who the hell do you think youre talking to  Aint going nowhere  Im figuring this out

but no matter how many arms he twisted                                                                       

faces he grated on raw concrete or rusty chainlink fences 
                                                             or liberated barbedwire across the palms of restrained hands
they werent sayin

he was willing to abuse
                          not kill

they forsook him for his lack of compunction 

they wouldnt shake out 

they held their wicked little secrets tight

and as he watched it play out behind their bright wet eyes into abject delirium he could see its shadow at the edges of their eyes where they receded into their heads 

where once they were red-tinted
                                   there were tongues of dazzling white spirals
caustic

         lapping

game

none would say what its point was

grim

none would say where the game went
cyclic                  

ceaseless

a wicked little secret

a spiral living on its inertia

even black eyes couldnt diminish

tough  fucking  customers

--  Where the hell do you think youre going

--  Im out

--  Thought you were going to figure this one out

--  I was wrong  Some mysteries ought not be known

0009,  Sunday,  22  9. 13

the young boy

he spied the young boy in the feral space behind a leaning rotting garage
under an overhang of purple lilac bushes and the stick bough of a disfigured pear tree

rooting in the cool black Midwestern dirt with a flatware tablespoon 
he had ostensibly taken from the silverware drawer in the familys cupboard

the boys back was to him

he was a small boy and peering over his shoulder was not difficult

above the rut the boy gouged was a scroll of toilet paper and on the toilet paper was a bloodied tooth

occasionally the boy spat

where the spittle coiled he could see it was laced with blood

the tooth must be the boys tooth

the boy worked solemnly

he made no noises

the boy set the tablespoon aside and leaned back on his haunches

then he leaned forward and took up the tooth and toilet paper and holding the tooth between his thumb
and index finger he put it in his mouth and seemed to try to replace it from where it came

the tooth fell out of his mouth

the boy picked it up brushed it against his tshirt and laid it back on the toilet paper

then he laid the toilet paper and tooth on the soft pile of dirt he had unearthed and cried

his shoulders shook softly

noiselessly

 

***

with the back of his dirty hands the boy wiped his eyes

he picked up the toilet paper and tooth and taking the tooth between his thumb and index finger again 
he held it for a long moment

then he deliberately wrapped it in the toilet paper

the boy held it up to his mouth and said something into the wrap

he couldnt hear

the boy kissed the wrapped tooth and laid it in the rut he dug

he laid the tablespoon atop it and pulled the loose black dirt over the sacrament with cupped hands

as the small boy rose into a kneel he quietly backed out of the feral sanctuary and strode to a tall elm
and hid behind its trunk to watch

***

soon the young boy emerged

filthy  glum  distracted

he brushed his hands together and brushed the loose dirt from the knees and thighs of his corduroys
briefly he shook like a dog

he stomped his feet unfurled the cuffs in his corduroys and emptied them
then recuffed them

he pulled his tshirt up to where his head disappeared into the shirt under its crewed collar and sullenly wiped his face and eyes

when his head emerged he looked down on his tshirt and slapped and pinched it to shake whatever excess dirt free there was
with a grunt  he acknowledged its filth

the boy looked over his shoulder from where he came

a longing look

he sighed

and with shining eyes he shuffled away

never looking back

1541,  Sunday,  23  12. 12

taking some time off for indecent behavior

post again Monday April 7