bell song

OLD MAN Remember the day we became worthy of her revolutionarily anointed vulnerability? When the brittle echo of our manhood became song enough to sing? When our being grew eyes and a wing? And her moans and koans told the sailors to the shore what not to bring?

OLD WOMAN stares silently out the window.

OLD MAN When we were post-fateful, blue & grateful? When our hateful became thankful? When our drums became nightful? When black clouds squirted glam band glitter lining? When we became pentatonic clouds endlessly signing?

OLD WOMAN giggling softly, picks up a copy of Orlando and grins quietly into its pages.

OLD MAN When we came armed with sickle, silk and gong and every hook looped bells til it was all night wrong but worthy of her softly ringing song?

OLD WOMAN looks up at OLD MAN with the smirk my Mother employed while staring dismissively at my Dad.

OLD MAN Do you remember this, my love? Or do I have it wrong?

OLD WOMAN exhaling…That day never came.

EVER MOTHERFUCKER!!!

Her scream lifts OLD MAN off of his chair and he stays suspended in air.

OLD MAN Yeah. (adjusting to his new position) You right, baby. (pause) You right.