Reflections From A Boat House

by m.s.wardrip

The grey cool morning was the perfect backdrop for misery.

The Tannenbaum family had left the Portland Head Light for Florida.

Every lighthouse keeper’s family deserves a vacation.

To sit on that rock day after day all year is a suffrage complete.

Crossing over the county road to the West side brought me clarity.

Sitting like a blanket covered Indian in the rain was Pocahontas proper.

She beckoned me with her eyes, disturbing the quiet slice of time.

Her smile dissolved my tense. Her love radiated and warmed my senses.

Do you partake of the natural? Do you want to share the smoke?

I gleefully accept the invitation to get toned. I love to get toned.

We laugh and try to explain proper which makes us laugh all the more.

She tells me of a plant that talks, sings, breathes and will sooth your pain with caress.

I melt. She hovers over me intellectually like a massive tower of knowledge.

I am helpless. Her power, her resolve, her energy comes from somewhere else.

Things start to levitate and crash around the room, a stool, a sewing machine, a cup.

I look up with a gash to my head. I’m bleeding, confused, great white light, dead.

The bitch is a witch in yuppy clothes. Her nails are sharp as her tongue. She cuts.

She’s a cutter, cuts herself, others. She is a machete, chopping, hacking, angry killer.

Run while you can! The family is dead. The carpet is blood-soaked. The sky sad.

The mission is in ruins. The trust has been destroyed. She came to kill and won.

Now, peace. No peace is on the way, no way to peace. Peace is the way.

A boiling mind, a restless soul, a hateful heart, a confused understanding, a skew.

Blooming bouquets of perfumed passion delights the senses of the discriminate victim.

A reckoning from on high, the only one who can save us has. Has saved us, has saved us.

Low! Behold the triumph! Hear and feel the cannonballs fly. Raise the flag of disgusting surrender.

I’m gagging. Vomit, the puke, the smell, the burning taste! Cannot stand it! I’m trapped.

Can’t breathe, think, move or release this terrible pain yet, somehow I know relief comes.

Death comes and leaves a carcass that time and buzzards devour. All gone. Hopeless. Dead.

www.drippy.net

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