Friday, September 26, 2014

Vaudevillian Bombardment Fantasy (A.)

Jesse S. Mitchell

previous part,

Lithe, good on his feet, a song and dance man with a great sense of humor.  Used to keep 
Them in stitches, glued to their seats, all those long many summers in the
Those holy mountains,
Fasting basically, going without bread or wine
Living on his wits.
He moves with grace, run-walks, across this soggy polder land, trees lining both sides of him
Dappling and breaking the light like a giant mirror ball as he passes.
Early morning, new bright sunlight streaming through, here and there and then gone, shadow lines.
The smells behind him, he cannot ignore, scorched rubber, burning gasoline
But the sounds he drowns out, the sounds that vibrate off in the distance, he disregards
He plays music in his mind
A trumpet squawk, an organ swell, a screech of violin
Horse gut on four tight strings.
Sometimes full on orchestral blare.
Mad gas-men in pursuit, always in pursuit
Flamethrower arms, machinery legs, and camel backed
Awful women-and-children-killers.
The days are long.
Common fantasy, known to most men in times of distress, 
What would you wish for,
If you had the chance to wish for anything
And have it come true?
Common answer, a million dollars, all the riches in the world.
He is out of breath.
He can feel the blood in his lungs.
He can taste it.
Cold metal in his hands
Rubbing the side of his leg raw
From the swinging
From the running.
He won’t ask for money, he imagines.
He would wish for a million years.
One hundred-thousand lives
All that time,
He would go everywhere in the world once, everywhere, every town, every village, every resturant.
He would see it all.
Then he would go back and see it all again, learn everything you could learn about everywhere and everything.
The best answer to any question, the best way to do anything.
The best way to peel a carrot.
The best way to end a fight.
The best way to build a blimp.
And then, he would go everywhere in the world again
And tell everyone, everywhere, everything he knew.
Fix everybody right up.
If he just had the time.
Who wants a million dollars when you could have a million years.
Bend back trees and skeleton houses tremble as bombs after bombs
After bombs
After bombs
Do whatever it is bombs are intended to do.
But he is a graceful young man
With a good attitude.

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