we, memory (stories of a lesser duration)

February 14, 2010

1. there were rainbows, like operative sparks, between the slits of my eyes…ADORING! warmth had completely surrounded me, reflecting beads, my very being glistened from a tiny recollection of flashes…PERFUME! and the clicking of heels. “EXCUSE ME, ARE YOU SUMMIT THORN, THE PRIVATE DETECTIVE?” i laid quiet though asleep, once we were introduced i’d a feeling there’d be consequences…SILENCE! perhaps she’d only been a dream, an aroused hallucination materialized by the persuasive heat. “WELL?” SHIT! it appeared she knew the game. i shade my eyes: she’d very dark hair, like the erotic shade of light, and was unsurprisingly luvlee; young, perhaps 20, she wore a large yellow hat and dress, which embraced her as though love itself knew her well. “YES…” i said, “MY NAME IS SUMMIT THORN, HOW-EVER, I’M ONLY AN X-COP, X-HUSBAND, AND X-DRUNK.” another momentary second of…NOTHING!! “SO WHAT ARE YOU SAYING…” inquired the young-woman of obvious money. “MR. THORN, EXACTLY?” i smiled, finding my retirement unreasonable. “THAT I ONLY EXIST IN THE PAST…” like a whisper, “I’M RETIRED.” i’d spoken purposely softer, in hopes she’d have mercy. my eyes were closing…WISH-FUL THINKING! stillness and quietude, i’d let a belief begin, prematurely, to settle in…PLEASE, NO! yes, i’d opened my eyes. the beautiful girl had sat, and was crying. as quickly as my body allowed i got up and jumped…(SPLASH!) i swam towards the another end…FAST! now sitting, i sat 1/2 submerged on the steps, the coolness i desired hadn’t come, the water was like urine…FRESH!

“SO, WHAT’S YOUR NAME?” the girl stood; opening her bag she removed a cigarette, lighted, she took a long, long drag. now composed, she began walking towards me. “SO YOUR NOT REALLY RETIRED?” “NO, I AM…” i said, “BUT I’M NOT WORKING THAT HARD AT IT.” (LAUGHTER!) a soft piano, delicate notes wishing to be heard. “YOUR OLDER THAN I PICTURED YOU’D BE.” “WELL MENTAL PICTURES TEND TO DEVELOP TOO QUICKLY WHEN YOUR YOUNG…SO WHAT’S ON YOUR MIND, MISS?” “O’DALE, CAMERON.” PRIDE! power and wealth. “YOU’VE NO DOUBT HEARD THE NAME.” “IT HASN’T ANY IMMEDIATE DISTINCTION, BUT MY MIND’S MADE IT A HABIT OF LATE TO FORGET.” “MY FAMILY, MR. THORN, IS EXTREMELY WEALTHY.” “SO SOME-THING’S BEEN STOLEN, I TAKE IT?” humbled, miss o’dale hid disfigured behind black lenses. “I DON’T REALLY ENJOY THE HEAT, WOULD YOU MIND IF WE CONTINUED THIS IN YOUR ROOM?” “NOPE, NUMBER 3…” i pointed. “DOORS OPEN, MAKE YOUR-SELF AT HOME; I’LL BE WITH YOU SHORTLY.”

ALONE! my heart pounded, and my lungs burned, my aging frame wasn’t use to the intensity in-which i swam…SCREAMS! like sharp pains were verbally abusing my soften muscles, their tired fibers felt as though they were being torn. but still i swam, possessed…DRAGGING! some phenomenal force pulled me along, i choked, but still…FASTER! i moved, my legs kicked, like irrational bombs they exploded upon the surface of the water; echoing thuds brought a mixture of both negative and positive atoms, swirling beings; there, without question, was an entity stirring…FAILURE! disheartening bursts, suddenly, coincided with my pumping, and broken organ; every heart-beat sounded aloud, vibrate, unexaminable secrets.

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