: The Young Train Master by Stevenson Burton Egbert Goss Henry Illustrator - Railroad stories

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"In the five and dime store where I first fell in love with unreality."

Lawrence Ferrenghetti

WINDFALL

Photos along a soft-centred wall like assorted chocolates with prized centres, tiny miniatures-- full portraits the young army major, for one, in battle fatigues come full family regalia.

Mounting the staircase shroud hand on the railing, pressuring the cherry liquid into oozing burst of memory, the nectarine orange of a summer's day. Swing & garden loom into view, the mind plays thoughtscapes, a tag ensemble, along the wall.

Old colours abound-- the antiquated dress & hairdos of grandparents that speak lavishly, into taste buds, across the fallen years. Ivy & ivory fan, kitten on a rocker, cradled baby that amounts to me, the sun coming home to roost on this plaintiff, pleading wall.

Passage of thought into this chocolate box-- the lid off stern memory prying forth a directory of mouth-watering choice, or so the advertisers' claim.

Yet do we ever thought over what we taut we are? My dad in Kenya or grandfather, about eight, from the dreamy, dark cream & nougat reaches of layered black space that speaks the aeons ago-- his manner and distance a smoky haze from the twilight "special occasion" Black Magic chocolate box.

TURNCOAT

Sitting in the spendthrift dark lilting pennies away, deciphering fate ... . The bed, a warm reach past the pillow like personal mortality in the incest breath of life.

Warm stuff of dreams-- the calender with its days mesh & march like soldiers dearly departed or the old sea-faring chest where all men are sailors past light's corner.

Sturdy trudgeons, clock bursts thru the room mindful of time and aching, decaying things.

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