Walking back from the adventure
From the try hards and want to be's
Its good to know
There are no short cuts
Incoming trains
the nature of the railway
The carbonized steel indifferent
The lines come first the journeys always
No comedy
Platform unsteady
Mimick a bystander
You better adjust
A generator counterweight rises and falls
The train system so efficient
No easy way out of the station
I fell off willingly, scared but ready to go
People pretend to be something
They sing and dance in public
just to get a glance
Some cheap attention
For me there are colored walls
Piece of food and platic wrapped up
That is called leisure
Or living
But infact there seems to be no point to it
The gyms are full and the food courts too
The retail shops aggressive brightness
Human fishing human fishing approval
I walk away
I see this tacky distraction
which for most is the illusion of purpose
The cylinder was dumped an hour ago.
It looks like some sort of fallen spaceship. For tiny aliens.
It looked pristine and completely out of place among the old pieces of litter.
Awkward old and moldy shapes and materials. But the filter was completely intact. Clean and unstained.
Though most of the people leaving their cars to dump their rubbish couldn’t recognize its shape and simply ignored it, as it was in their minds tainted by the wastes.
A young husband and wife dealing with their severance from hippydom and into family life.
They were hauling out a window frame with a good main pane and a wonderfully decorated stain glass. The woman almost tripped over the air filter.
“What the hell is this?” she says.
The husband looks back at it. “it's a vat of agrotoxin used on the local corn crops.” he snorts cynically.
“Eew.” She says.
An older man in his fifties came upon it and actually picked it up.
His nephew spoke up “Oh whoah.”
“It’s a new robot stomach son”
His nephew looked up at his uncle unbelievingly.
Why would a robot need a stomach? His nephew thought.
The nephew picked it up and threw it across the landfill.
A girl and her mother were throwing out old paper and damp books. The girl saw the air filter land close to the last books she left. She picked it up. It was so light.
She turned it in her hands, her mother continued to the trunk of the car and came out with her arms full and threw it all down, just keeping her daughter in her peripheral vision but not actually checking what she was doing.
She attempts to throw it exclaiming please dont touch the trash honey. Except the air filter catches the wind and makes it back into the daughters hands. The mother turns red noticing that other people have now turned to observe her and her daughter. Her shrill voice had given her away. Her daughter's giggling felt like an irritating social sabotage. Her arms wanted to reach out and throw it again this time far away where her daughter wouldn't get it. But no, now the eyes were there.
The air filter looked at her daughter's favorite new toy.
The woman let her keep it. She didn’t know what it was and almost changed her mind as she drove home with her daughter playing with it in the back.
After a morning of the daughter getting acquainted with the air filter she opened the purifier in her mother’s bedroom.
“What are you doing?” Her mother asked. But the daughter tucked the piece in. It fit.
“A new filter mom.” Her daughter said.
It was in fact working and as both mother and daughter both put their heads against the purifier.
The hum of it, comforting and homely.
The last vestige of summer slowly gets pushed out by north winds
A beach where the local council shipped in sand to make it comfortable
Rockpools that come up to the waist extending from small reefs
Colorful seaweed and adapted corals can be seen from the top of the water
Big fish can be seen in the transparent waters and they approach
Fish whose fins struck out of the water and run along the waves
A brother and sister both young fishermen too attractive to be poor
Yet something crushingly local about them
On the side of the bay sat a palm protected from the north winds
Everything seeemed out of place for the latitude
Seemingly too warm for a place where ice and snow would eventually claim
Like a fantasy given it's own temporary life
The wide drive way gives space for a dead community
A place that once thrived
Now it is abandoned
Long practical buildings
The mountain cloud drift slows for dark afternoons
The people left after digging up a subterrenean prison
A structure that looks like the spine and ribcage of a dinosaur
The curious visitors look down from a safe balcony attached to the building
After the uncovering apparently there was a haunting and some form of curse
So the people living there moved to Vitoria Gasteiz
They were not recieved well the story of the lazaretto being well told there
Understood as the legacy of misfortune
Those long sinister ribcage like prisons were not really prisons
But places to put people infected with smallpox
There they would be kept until they expired
A darkness yet exists there behind a secret door
The shack wasn't there when I got back
Just a pool deep enough to drown me
But I lay there comfortably afloat
Late morning sun very scalding
Deep blue sky full of the heat of the day
The water reflects the sun
Surface is spotted with blinding brilliance
The upon the wall to the street
An electric distribution box
Thousands of wires and plugs
Zig zaggin out of one another
So close to the water of the pool
One tiny arc of electricity I would be no more
My body slowly glides toward the box
Then backward again toward post
The cables above connecting the lane
There was a spark coming from a loose plug
Ever had to eat a crustacean infront of beauty
Beauty with eyes that could see through
Mock and conspire on a grand platform
Where one would be exposed to elaborate ridicule
where convention and social grace raised eyebrows in contempt
The feast inside the condo events center was no different
Hunger conquered dignity
Longing for the flavor won over decorum
The tongue and the stomach having their way
Therefore I am judged breaching this mos civilis
The mind and it's instinctive craving moved teeth
and serpentine tongue into devouring
The bottomless bowl
The absurdity of over eating here in this large room
Burnt up by derision blemishing the crux of a well shaped urbanitas
The feast was to be looked at and not touched
No matter the impulse or temptation
And here I am, all hands and tongues getting stuck in
The mouth just flesh wall inside hell itself
What a crude spectacle for these particular prestigious observers
