Autumn Clean Up

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A smoky remnant still remains from the burning embers left of the autumnal leaves and downed branches.

My lawn, the trees and shrubs including the landscaping, all need cleaning so we did, we started to clean up the debris.

I gathered up all the downed branches, I raked the leaves, picked up the stuff and put it all into a pile and started a roaring fire.

We fell into a pattern of life, she wore her pants tight.

We had ourselves a great little time to see the fire, it was a great big fire and warm. A nice little time we spent together, working together, myself watching her.

I’m seeing her like this, we’re having fun. I like to observe her sporting such tasks, where she actually enjoys her yard work. I love to watch her.

I felt the sun and the warmth of the fire. The sun was upon us during the day. The smoke and ashes have been emitting a fragrance, a natural smell of the Earth, this from the fallen autumnal leaves and downed branches, the Oaks and the Maples, it all alighted to our wonder at home together. A homeowner needs to do his chores. I’m here for about two weeks, so why not. Now is the time to be alone together just her and I.

“Doreen?”

“Yes Darling, what is it, ” Doreen ask me.

“Will you get on top of my shoulders this morning,” I ask her. “Yes, I’ll stand atop your shoulders,” was Doreen’s reply.

Close to nature, the way things happen sheltering their own two feet. Olive trees were their best choices for a fun turn around.

Shaking the olive branches where she could, to reach them standing on top of my shoulders, I couldn’t help but to look up.

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The Land Connoisseur

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Here after having dreamed about episodes taking place, they were all a dream but quite possibly here and all about him and all round this rural town of where he lives, this was a dreary place. Although these episodes, such as the ones he has imagined, such as the ones he has dreamed up, they were not likely to occur.

He had to get his teenagers, to finagle it out of them, to get them to work or starve. They had to catch their own food and grow what little food they could on the little plot of land they had acquired.

However it seems his wife, as if it were, the way she was, of her dwarf likeness, she has the littlest and the tiniest of features.

There was lying and cheating about what he filled in the refrigerator. To do one thing is feed someone’s stomach over hunger. He had to hide it from the teenagers.

He moved near the river so he could feed his family and catch what was in the river, then one day he moved his family to the Big Apple.

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This Little 500cc

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The tenderness of youth, we’ve all been there before.

Could it be that we were irreverent, we loved physical contact, much more, physical touching, the improper moments, not of correctness, nor of being correct, not fitting of politeness, attributed to our style? The styles we put on.

This little 500cc is a sure sign you buttressing up, you gallantry and you courage, a course of your style and your independence.

It should be and as an example, I see the improprieties, especially since after showing off. I followed her inside the store. I then had to ask her to move albeit politely, or else I would have brushed up against her.

*May the angels be encamped around you!

To think a handsome young man shows up some place, more so than showing up, he shows off, and here I might add. It’s a bit of mixing up other’s feelings. I’m sorry, I told her, it just so happens that I ran into her in the local grocery store, we were grabbing at food off the shelf.

I mean, what do you do, she had already invaded my space.

“I think you would love to have coffee with me and chat with me about this, that or the other,” I told her.

“I’m not opposed to a place or a setting or a particular neighborhood, well, yes, I am, really, actually. I would prefer an upscale place,” she replies.

Oh, it would be nothing of a ghetto place, but a simple place, a delightful place where we could communicate on neutral grounds and be with ordinary people just like ourselves.

“OK-A-A-A-Y, How About The Watch Tower,” I asked her.

“The watchtower..The Watchtower?” She asks me.

She tells me, “Okay, now the curious ones will be interested to know who I am, right?”

This was about the Watch Tower.

“Who?” I ask her.

“They’re up there watching you know!” She tells me.

So we begin our journey to the Watch Tower.

“Come on, come in please!” The ever-so-present and strong club bouncer, castle gate guard, what-have-you, speaks to us. “So how about eating a piece of cheese then?”

“Okay,” we said.

“OKAAAY, THEN SET YOUR BUTTS DOWN.”

Such rough talking, I might add.

Now in the Watch Tower, nowhere can we go.

Having mentioned in his sermon, this person who stands guard in the Watch Tower, his speech is about articles of clothing and he begins with demonstrating and showing us with hands, without any remorseful sorrow, rather out of pure meanness and too, he’s wailing and shouting at us. This was about sexy attire, “Let’s don’t misappropriate articles of clothing,” clinching with his fist hand, “Was this the doings of Renaissance Act with their fancy makeup and fancy clothing? Have you ever seen them walking around so aimlessly, all goth and horny?”

I think so, we both nodded and we agreed, we had thought so.

So we went inside the Watch Tower.

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San Francisco

San Francisco

This girl she lifts up her skirt. I hear her say, “see,” and saying, “what, what, what?” I smile. I hear a bit of disdain in her voice, it’s like sarcasm. A typical girl. That was her back then.

It’s not any wonder, what I ask, I ask amiss. Although, now that I am going thru with this, no doubt this won’t be easy. There’s more to it also, but I need to get past the beginning point. Yes, she’s the type I know of, she’s a classical romantic.

I’m going to text her to tell her, to let her know I will be coming over for morning coffee. I want to see her and I don’t see anything wrong or disgusting about this. I just want to be with her again, in her presence, a mature woman, a lovely person, to have morning coffee with her before daylight.

That’s it! I didn’t tell her because it gave me such great pleasure.

I am creating a shortcut for myself too, an affair, though no strings attached. There’s potential here for a personal relationship, personal friendship and some personal enrichment, that’s for sure, yet we’re just using one another, it would seem, and we do, so why not?

I like her for sure, but it’s a case of us not liking each other. It’s an odd case, weirdo.

My first-time lover. She had a crush on me back then, I think, oh, I’m not positively sure! Well yeah, maybe she did, but then who knows, we were young.

The transportation southbound to get into the city is not an easy task and there are transfer stations and time constraints, dilemmas and tasks, location spots, drop off spots, waiting periods and just people all around you everywhere not listening to you and not listening to anyone, the traffic and the noise, it’s loud. It’s all here, what will you make of this place? Anyway, here I go, off to see another. I sought her out, I wanted to.

Okay, she’s fair game, I’ve known her for a long time.

Oh you beautiful thing, I would tell her, how could you not feel any love in your heart. You’re like an extremely beautiful glamour model and you never remember feeling loved by anyone? Well, I love you, loved you and I’m waiting for the day to be with you again.

Now, I’ve began to get annoyed. Having felt admiration for her once, but then I left her alone. It seems with her my aggravations are swollen.

And I will ask her: “Did you not know this person? It was Me!” Yes, she perhaps knew I still existed, we kep up together and this was online, through the social media networks, but she never knew of such dependency and depending on how much my mind reads this, how to treat a person who loved them after so many years, after so long.

You treat them with kindness, they love you. It seems they do, or they’re in despair somehow, of course they need you. Where’s the human compassion? Hey, there’s nothing wrong with having coffee with a dear friend of early morning and to have a little companion alongside of you I think.

She tells me as gentle as she could, “I don’t know, I don’t dislike you, but I don’t love you and yet, I don’t hate you either, please don’t hate me! Hey, you know what, I would like to see you!”

And that’s where I am at right now, stuck on this!

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At Dusk

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So very sterile, so very clean as if to smell a clean fragrance, Sangue/ Blood. She capitalizes on this, at dusk she smells their blood, and the smell of it, she categorizes this as odd as she announces her entrance, it’s as strange for her, of the different brands, the different types of blood, which are now ever present.

There she was going about her way thru the night, a strategy of hers, these were her quick bursts, ‘Quickies’ energy for the hunt. She hurries along as if their blood, each one person calls out to her.

How they turn around so readily, they cannot communicate, not after seeing her, not thoroughly enough, the sight of her was such a shock.

I cannot think straight. I smell you, it’s your blood!

You See My Darling, You Are Like Every Mountain Top, The Same As Before But Never Reachable or Doable, For You See, Others Have Enjoyed These Pleasures.

She wants to suck their blood.

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Time Moves On His Story

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Now what he dreams about, still ever dreaming of episodes taking place, for the better or the worse, he wished they would, yet he doesn’t know of any such a course, they were all of his dreams.

Where he lives is such a dreary place. Not particularly for him, having been so sheepishly involved, not hardly in it at all. But maybe he thought, that she would come over sometime to where he lived to give him a plate of food, whomever she would be.

Although episodes such as these and the other episodes that he has imagined, they were all of his dreams and they were never likely to occur. They were just his fantasies. He had nothing but time.

He had begun to worry about himself about his time remaining, that father clock would be running out, so to speak, about his activities, the things he loved to do, he stopped partaking of these activities, the ones that he once held dear.

He worried about his family too, but they weren’t around, not so much anymore, so he began to wander around the little town, the place where he lived. He was constantly walking around throughout the town, sometimes riding his bicycle, trying to get into shape, to get his exercises done. He would sometimes sit on his lawn chair that he would bring or on just anything, sitting in the public sector, the gathering areas, trying to be social, he liked to watch other people of what their activities were, of their youthfulness. His spirits were high, yet he was confused, he had no one.

Old things around his place, the unkempt, the disarray left as it were. He sees where the landscape and the mechanical aspects if it all have been forgotten.

Once drinking beer because beer tasted good, of a once stable life, an occupation, but there’s no longer an occupation or circulatory motion, there hasn’t been for a while.

..“It’s as if I’ve silenced her, by my own insincere pettiness, by my jealousy, because at the time she stood out as a very young and pretty woman, a n d…she eventually became my wife, a rather special delightful warm feeling.” Although now, he had to move on.

He Truly Loved Her Yet There He Sat

His story:

So I truly believe, now since I have the time to take a certain path, plus I have a home and a place to fall back to, returning to my home whenever I want. I may move onward, to go places, traveling, moving from place to place. In the beginning, as you know this will be uncertain, although it looks most appealing. Here, I will not say goodbye, not so much, because without a doubt I will return and be back soon, once again resuming my path, because I have nothing but time, so I shall be starting again at my original starting place. Although it is here that I wish to leave, wanting to get away from here rather badly.

What a nice day for challenging ourselves. Myself, to take a look around me.

…The landscape and the mechanical aspects of it all have been forgotten. Flowers fade as do dreams then one season the flowers, they suddenly reappear, yet he is ruined. The flowers are as beautiful as before, yet nothing awaits him because of a stillness…

…They were afraid yet they had alternatives plans throughout this whole ordeal, of her illness and this is how they felt about their impact on togetherness, their life together for many years…

I had a dream come to me today and I wasn’t sleeping. I remembered where we were and what we did, we had a good talk, we always had good talks. What a way to start the day!

What I gave to you my dear can hardly be noticed now. What I did give to you, if anything, hopefully this gets noticed, if not technically because I was kind to you and also very generous.

Yes, he hoped so. They lived their life that way, she however has gone on.

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The Rural Roads and Byways

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I’ve been out riding my motorcycle, now I’m on my way to arrive at my favorite diner for lunch, it’s where I like to go. Afterwards I’ll have dessert somewhere, maybe some ice cream. I have just passed an abandoned old school building. I get a fleeting glance. Oh wow, this looks so spooky, as with everything though, one glance paints a thousand images to one’s imagination. There are numerous horror stories just waiting to be written here.

What do you see riding along these byways, of the many rural roads you take, places you pass riding along the vast countryside on a motorcycle?

There are many sights all of full things. I noticed this abandoned school, a sign that reads, ‘Private Property Keep Out’. It gave me chills and goose bumps in broad daylight!

Amid the delight, learning as children do, playing in the school yard, my imaginations say something terrible has happened here. And this is why it is now abandoned.

Maybe there is a horror story here, like the two students who attended school, they threw eggs at the local skating rink of the time era. This school looked to be active in the 1940’s now it’s abandoned.

I remember the story: A man took his gun and shot at the two fleeing pranksters, who after throwing eggs were trying to make a clean getaway. One was shot dead by the man. The man went to prison where he eventually hung himself. True story!

Going up, I stopped along the way for a break. I was trying to think of how that my dad had once said, “You won’t get vittles this good anywhere.” Maybe he was content with the occasion. I think this had been a family reunion. He was foot soldier in a war I’ll never have to experience. Why would he tell me this story about food here and only to me?

He had said it this way because he would never speak of the atrocities of man or what he had witnessed, ever.

I was quickly brought back to the present when I heard a woman crying out, she was hurrying to leave, she had shouted, “Baby, Baby!”

Had her child been kidnapped? It was the anxiety in her voice, like a scene in a horror story. Yes, this was so scary and too, in broad daylight. This horror story or ‘would be horror story’ played out in my mind.

What would one do if they had witnessed a kidnapping?

Do we have days when we get ran over by nightmarish and hellish thoughts, and why does this happen. It is anyone’s guess.

“Good Afternoon. l will have my dessert now, a Pecan Pie, and this will be out from one of those cellophane packets you know, the ones you buy at the convenience stores. I’ll get mine from a gas station, eating it while standing up beside my motorcycle parked outside thank you.”

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