Red Winter Coat (Kelly)

It's warm out this morning, the dew point is climbing up; a light rain will come down at any moment.

Your lights on, I assume you hadn't step outside to walk your dog yet; it's so early.

I walked my dogs, on our usual morning route. My head looking up at the fading moon, mentally confirming positive hopes for my day. The eerie howl of the coyote startled me, afraid to go any further in the dark, I could almost see him, sitting in the middle of the lush green grass of hole number 9. Time to head back home.

Startled again, I had not, expected to see you, your red coat and your sad brown Shepard. Pausing at the street corner to look at me, looking at you. Swelled with the comfort of your presence, I whispered, under-breath "Good morning, I love you".

Aspie

Yours is an unparalleled beauty

imprisoned by a muted voice

and avoiding eyes

The Large White Rat

Rats have always produced an intense amount of fear in me. Growing up in New York City, I would see rats the size of cats and dogs, crawling thru trash bins and scurrying through grey dark alley ways.

I was about six years old, my parents and I walked home from late at night dinner party held at my Grandmothers, Park Avenue apartment. My parents, walked several feet ahead of me, I straggled behind walking slowly, mindfully distracted, with my eyes to the ground. I heard a rustling sound coming from a chain linked bush, surrounded by overgrown grass, to my left on the sidewalk. I paused in my step; curiosity clasped my youthful attention, I focused my eyes on the bush…and waited. The pulse of my tiny heart beat increased in tempo, adrenaline chilling my veins. The rustling of bush leaves becoming more urgent. I saw it. The parting of this organic green matter; something was coming…frozen with fear, excited by the unknown, I continued to watch the bush. A startled rat barrels out of the bush, careening recklessly toward a pile of garbage bags stationed directly to my left. Before reaching the pile of trash, the rat, blinded by surprise, t-boned at full speed, straight into my ankle bone.  After a quick recovery, from what I would assume was shock, the rat hopped hastily over my feet and dove, head first into the safety of street litter.

 Blanketed by my own fear and shock, I yelled at the top of my lungs for my father. Quickly my father lifted me up into his arms, scanning around for the cause of my terror. “Daddy, a rat bit my foot!” I yelled thru a streaming flush of tears and draining nasal mucous. My dad peeled off my shoe with frantic haste searching for a wound; an undisguised, gracious sigh of relief beamed from his eyes at finding no such wound, on his child.

In my six year old mind, I was infected with disease and bleeding profusely from a gaping hole in my foot. I thought I was dying, mauled a by hairy New York City street demon.  

I've been afraid of rats for as long as I could remember. These days I live in the Southwest, so I don’t see them as often; thankfully! Last night, I dreamed of a large white rat the size of a dog, two enormous clean white teeth protruding from its mouth. In my dream, I felt compassion and love for a toothy, snow white Muroid. My dreams are very lucid, there had been no doubt in my mind, what I was witnessing in my dream, had not been real. I was safe in this dream world, with my large white rat. A rat which I lovingly beckoned toward me; to feed it treats, to bestow it with some reassurance. The large white rat from my dream hopped and pranced around me like a puppy out to play. A slight sliver of fear coursed thru my veins each time, my hand inched nearer those large rodent incisors. Still, I lifted my hands to feed the rat and pet its head.

 What does this dream mean to me?

I think it means, I've conquered a hidden fear from deep inside my psyche, but the caution is still ingrained in my mind.

Move past the fear, yet exercise caution around the sharp protruding teeth, and find another way around the dangers.

I know your name

I see you everywhere.
I think of you all the time.
I dream of you, while I sleep.

I see you everywhere.

You walk with your Shepard, your eyes cast down at the ground, failed invisibility.

I still see you.

The Sun burns brighter, even at midnight, when you glide along the paved path to pass me, in the courtyard.
My heart is smiling…can a heart smile? Apparently yes, a heart can smile.

I’m afraid of you, afraid you will shout in anger at me, for witnessing your beauty, desiring your companionship.  There is a strong, relentless magnetic pull, hailing deep from within my life force, warbling a song at light speed to reach you.

You’re a secret; the Universe has kept patiently hidden from me. A buried treasure locked deep in the open wilderness of the Universe. I have a key, I’m awaiting the courage to turn, free the lock and unravel your mysteries. I know your name and you know mine. 

My afternoon fix

I pulled in through the back alley, parking my truck near the dumpster. I licked my lips in anticipation. What will I get this afternoon? I walked around the side of the small building structure, following the gold sticker arrows, pointing to the entrance. The air suddenly filled with the strong aromas of coffee, spices, and sweet chocolaty tobacco. 

Looking down at my watch, I could see I only had twenty minutes, to shop around and pick out something new. I enter the cigar shop, and was greeted by an attractive man in his 40's, salt and pepper haired slicked with pomade, combed neatly to the side. He smiled, his warm dark eyes somewhat taken aback; I would assume, by a self-assured middle aged female in his cigar shop. I returned the smile with a gleam in my eyes and a question on my lips "Are you the proprietor?"  He paused for a moment; looked down at the ground concentration pressing his brow, before responding. “Yes, I'm, what can I get you today?" 

"I'm looking for NUB". 

The proprietor chuckled and said "I should let you know, NUB I doesn't work here". I laughed uproariously; as I do with most clever retorts delivered to me. "Is this cigar for you?" he asked.  Confidently I responded "Yes, I've been an unapologetic cigar smoker since the age of 18". 

He subconsciously clasped his hands in glee. "Well then welcome to my shop!" 

The proprietor shared with me the many potential ways, my patronage to his shop could benefit me and my cigar passion. I made my selection at his suggestion, shook his hand after introductions were made, and waved goodbye as I headed to the exit. I stepped out into the sunshine with a sealed tin canister containing my NUB Habenero

; anticipating the evening Sunset, when I will light my treat and melt my cares away.

The night visitor

I awoke at 3 a.m. from a deep sleep.

It was in my room again, last night; the heavy presence of someone...or something standing over me.

Original sketch by Piper Draconi 

 I live alone with my two dogs; both were fast asleep at the foot of my bed.  The cold drizzle of fear ran down my spine. Psychologically paralyzed from the extreme terror of the unknown, hours seemed to pass.

This presence I wondered, is it here to strike me down?  What will come next, Heaven; Hell or the sleep eternal?  Are Angels real? Will God send me a winged soldier from Heaven, come down to swoop up my soul into the warm glow of white clouds and the song of trumpets? 

My breathing’s becoming labored. Ice formed around my heart, beads of sweat at the tip of my nose.
I’m having a panic attack?
Thoughts of aliens, pyramids, Anubis standing on sand colored alter with a dagger for a sacrifice.
I am no lamb. I clasp the bed sheet with a death grip, “I am not afraid of you” {a lie}.  

Strength propelled from my gut, I jumped from my bed; sending my dogs into barking hysteria. I darted across the room to find my salvation; a ten dollar floor lamp from Walmart. The dark energy instantly dispersed at the first strike of light. Where did it go?
It does not matter, so long as it stays away.  

The Piper of Spanish Harlem

Saturday's sunshine beamed light into a dark room. The warm hum of spring birthed the buzzing fly. The fly woke the girl from a deep sleep, sand still in her eyes. She summed all of her energy to brush the tickling fly away from her ear, to her nose and back to her ear again.

The Piper stood at the center of grove of trees, bagpipe slung over his shoulder.

Fingers place gently on the Chanter. He licked his lips. took in a deep breath of morning air. 

The Piper breathed out his tension and apprehension. A melody reverberated through his lungs into the blow pipe, filling the streets of Spanish Harlem with the sounds of the Scottish Highlands.

Excitement for the days adventure, the feel of metal handle bars and the shiny red BMX, fueled adrenalin throughout the young girls veins.

The day ahead held promise of a bike ride through Central Park's lush green trees and fierce rolling hills.

The promise of wind ruffled hair, the songs of birds, and the multicolored bonanza of flowers peeking out from every bush of the Conservatory Garden.

Awake with vigor, looking out of the twelfth story window, the girl searched for the Piper, the bold perpetrator of such an exotic sound, hidden, in plain sight.  

The Piper played his tune of enchanting sound, a haunting echo, the siren of the girls youth.

Invisible, lost among towering beds of green leaves, the Piper was never seen by the girl.

The Piper was forever a symphonic ghost, haunting a childhood long since past.