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I invited my Shadow over for tea––
it showed up about five minutes late, and said it preferred the whiskey.
I opened my closet and let the skeletons out––they were happy to have the tea––
although some of them preferred the whiskey, and quite a few of them
wanted to smoke.
Eventually, all that got sorted out, and everyone was relaxing.
One of the skeletons said, “O.k., that’s it. We’re not going back inside that closet.”
I said, “Fine, I understand. You don’t have to.”
My Shadow was laughing about something.
I said, “What’s so funny?”
It said, “Nothing. Don’t mind me,” and grinned mysteriously, (and annoyingly),
while it finished its second glass of whiskey, and poured itself another.
I glanced at him, but decided not to pry.
I said, “O.k. You probably wonder why I invited you all out to the living room.
It is a living room, after all, and I’d like you to get more comfortable in it.
More comfortable with the concept of living, in general.”
The skeletons were whispering and giggling, pretending to cross their legs and
sit up straight, and act all proper. My Shadow had talked one of them into a game of
backgammon, and kept doubling the cube and rolling Elevens.
No one seemed to be listening, or even very interested in what I had to say.
I decided to pour myself a glass of whiskey, and, yes, to light a cigarette.
From the looks of things, it was going to be a long night.
I been to boothill but I ain’t there now.
take off your glasses and look at the roses.
the blushing pink cheeks of spring.
here it comes again and then it goes away.
some say the grave is like an airport to paradise.
others roll the dice and try to find paradise walking
like, above the ground. roll them dice.
roll them bones. it goes around and around.
that sun tanned well coifed meter maid.
who knows where she goes on her days off.
takes off those shades and lets her hair down.
angel of deliverance. angel of mercy.
who’s to say they ain’t one and the same.