Love and Words

_______________

nothing at all

        __

Well,

I was standing in the middle of nowhere,

you know,

the kind of place they have everywhere,

and I'd been there

for quite some time.


I was staring out at nothin'.

The leftover cotton dottin' the land like dirty snow.

The tumbleweed,

a small idea of Christmas,

that reminded me,

I had nowhere to go.


When this,

cloud'a dust started moving

from the tree a hectare away.


At least it gave me something to watch.


The dust turned into a truck.

The truck gave birth to a man

five foot four and older than the dirt where I stand.


He would have looked like Santy Claus

but,

there was something wrong with all that.


He said, "Get in",

and I thought, "Why Not. "

So I got in

and he drove me past the tree

that doesn't remind me of here

but of someplace I'd never been.


He drove me out and showed me the hole in the ground

where they were going to put in that new tower


And he said,

"Telly Communications."


He drove me out to a barn

by a silo about to fall down

only I'd been here long enough to know

that looks deceive.


We stopped and got out,

he pulled out a steel cane

and a bundle of keys.

It made me feel a little bit better,

knowing I'd been right all along,

knowing all I'd have to do

was kick - 

and he'd fall to the ground.


He unlocked the door.

We went in

and his two young sons appeared.

"Show her everything" the man who wasn't

Santy Claus said,

and they opened

every door.


And there,

there

in the pale light,

haloed by the shimmering gold flakes of dust,

was a mountain of furniture,

carved and polished by hand,

most beautiful I'd ever seen.


I wanted to fall to my knees

before the scrolls an' cherubim

of the rosewood pulpits

surrounding me in the dark.

 

I didn't.

But it felt like I did inside.


The taller son said,

"He makes all the church things

from here to Carson City.

Don't advertise, all word of mouth,

though I want to get him on the web."


And the shorter son said,

"It's good you're here,

don't get much a chance

to brag about how good you are,

don't get much a chance at all,

when its only church folk around."


Then they closed the doors,

And drove me back to nowhere.

Only now,

I had somewhere

in the middle,

of nothing at all.

          __

decagon          poetry

_______________

            home

c.2011 Cassandra TribeAll Rights Reserved