I met a man with stilts for legs who’s voice sounded like the hum of a refrigorator. I met an old woman with a leather face who told of mythic battles. She had one good eye but I couldn’t determine which one it was. She told of a fire that killed a baby. Looting that took houses & heros clothed in rock and school uniforms. I saw shallow streams who’s waters flowed slowly. Their reflections told of eternity in a thick grey milk. I saw beasts fighting in the thick of squeels and trash. Children passed message of our presence in a three syllabul chant. A young boy smiled at us, bare ass in the air. The air was a soup of tiny water droplets, exhailing deisel engines and dust that couldn’t figureout gravety. Young lions did circus tricks in unison with mother waiting anxiously for tragedy, not distracted by the collective poetry of five people discussing… What was it? School fees that couldn’t be paid? How much? $2? Ohh… we’ll see what we can do. How about half? Followed by the flow of “God almighty’s,” “Jahovah,” “Lord” until the little brook was punctuated by an “Amen” that flowed in a circle around the room. We parted the film of blue material and step into the light.
