Saving Grace

The uproar of the bay paralyses Karl
(you know
he should be stooping the girl
she’s not allowed in the bay)

As she passes through the threshold
her open-front cardigan has taken an angelic shimmer
Ethereal energies coalesce around her golden hair
like the thick honey of a new day pouring over the horizon
Her retro patent leather shoes are slip resistant on the greasy floor
and she moves with a certainty that only girl children can achieve

The Kooli-pop ring on her right hand is crackling and popping
as she subvocalizes a chant older than Time itself

Her voice silences the bedlam
The chaotic sounds bleeding away like the air from a balloon
released at a birthday party by a fat clown

The mechana monster collapses at the feet of Zhitzat
The Oil-bay demon kicks the vicious robot rodent
at a forty-five degree angle
with respect to the girl

She freezes his dark soul with a single glare
He bows his head in genuine humbleness

She turns
“Bunny, get up”

The fur pulls back into the default coverings
It stands
on its now clawless feet
it comes to huddle before her

“Where have you been
I have been looking all over for you?”

James says
“That thing. . .”

“That bunny”

“That bunny was under the seat of the car
All personal items are supposed to be removed. . .”

(she can read his mane tag
despite the smudges)
Bunny is very sorry and he won’t do anything like this again
Is that right bunny?”

It nods an ashamed affirmative

“No problem miss. . .?”

“My name is Sally
and it would be nice if you could get this done soon
My Dad gets kinda grumpy when he is separated from his car
for too long”

“In a jiff Miss Sally
You heard the lady
Get to work!”

“Come on bunny
You’re a mess. . .
We’ll go to the bathroom and give you a bath”

The Mechana Monster – Post Modern Fairy Tale

It lies hidden under the front seat
passenger side
where it was abandoned. . . so long ago

In this frightening isolation hard and angry thoughts
have taken root
A heart may be broken and yet there is continuance
A heart may grow back
but it may grow back twisted. . .

Suddenly the accursed light!
And some kind of Thing has opened the door

The mechana bunny
pulls back the pink fur on its cheeks and extremities
revealing pistons, servos and merciless titanium teeth
The diamond deposition claws extend
Bright red LED eyes cast a menacing glare as it scans the intruder
Survival subroutine programming whirls through the processors
and it leaps for the throat of the demon

Zhitzat screams as the pink bunny mechana monster
springs from the car

All the demons scream
and James decides that he will go drinking tonight
(woman or not. . . )

Life in a Pit – Post Modern Fairy Tale

(the only human in the oil-bay of Instant Lube)
finishes the Gatorade ™ and pitches the empty plastic bottle
end over end into the trash bin
He is wondering if he will get to go drinking this evening
(maybe ever meet a woman
red hair, she has to have red hair)

Zhitzat is having the devil’s own time
keeping the other demons at bay
He remembers a time before technology
Before health plans and three square meals a day
He remembers that as a dark time of chaos
a time bereft of toilets and pleasing picture-plates
of adorable kittens

“No, you accurst vermin
You must turn it counter clockwise to loosen it. . .
And for the love of darkness don’t use the impact wrench!”

with the oil-spout
It goes into the engine
not into your mouth. . .
That’s product and it costs money so don’t waste it”
(beside it gives you gas)

“Hey James. . .
We’re gonna clean this one out?”

“Yeah, they got the Supreme Lube Package
You do it Zhitzat
last time your guys licked all the shinny surfaces
and got the whole car sticky. . .

“Got it”
(stupid humans)

Initiatory Scene – Post Modern Fairy Tale

In this part of the story
we see Karl
That guy over there
(honestly. . . he’ the only person around old enough to drive
ignore the girl for the moment)

Karl is pretending
Pretending to read that ‘Motor Week’ magazine
The smudgy one provided in the Instant Lube waiting room

We see Karl pretending to read a ragged magazine
that he has absolutely no interest in reading

He is trying to handle his breaking heart
The intrusive knowledge that his baby is being abused
in the adjacent oil-bay

Those foul, wretched denizens of the Grease -Pits
The cursed minion of the gods of auto-maintenance

They’re knocking about under her hood
Stripping her threads
Putting their grubby fingers all over her upholstery
Bleed her precious body of its spent fluids

Karl is shaking
His eyes refuse to focus
Quivering and chanting that personal prayer he made up as a kid
Oh, when will this torment end?

The girl
is playing quietly with her doll
(she is a creative little girl)

vision quest

i wonder if i am safe
letting all this go. . .

isn’t that the problem with vision quests
i have to leave the tribe behind
if i wish to save it

having lived in darkness
i have heard of the burning room
the room where the winds enter without permission
the room where comes the burning of the light
(why can i see the cycles of the light that burns
but the others are blind?)

so i leave in the night
under a sky that seems filled with stars
a gentle darkness filled with subtle light

and the sun comes

the total darkness calls me back into the hole
but i stay and let the ball of fire
burn away the comfort of rot

the fingers of darkness seek to hold me
but the fingers are broken and peeled back
bits of madness cling to me
and i discover my own shadow

a reminder of the darkness that birthed me

Swear Not

i do not swear this Love on the Lady moon
for though i love her
she can be . . . inconstant

i do not swear this Love on the Sun’s furnace
for though i live in his blood
my love would pass him . . . unnoticed

i do not swear this Love on this Zephyr
for though she touches me at every point
she only knows . . . how to tease

i do not swear this Love on the acts of man
for though i am a civilized being
i have not always acted in the best way . . .

i swear this Love on the only constant
in my ‘Verse
i swear this Love on the Fire in my heart