5
26
2015
Chapter 8
Awakening
TO YOU
STRANGER!
if you passing,
meet me,
and desire to speak to me,
why should you not speak to me?
And why should I not speak to you?
- Walt Whitman
~
right there.
streets of NYC.
Stranger was walkin’, decided to wake him.
“Hey ya!”
blondyn opened eyes.
sunlight pierced pupils.
beams stung to the nerve ending of the memory strings
where embers of a dream
—the last moments of the scene—
hotly shining.
“o…”
at the moan, Stranger turned concerned.
saw the kid was in pain.
blondyn explained:
“just woke me from hi-fi fantasy…”
blondyn was recounting.
Tall Ship had just been sliding into black-gold sands of a shore.
Promised Land, at last, but alas…
“fantasy?”
Stranger took stock of blondyn’s sleeping bag,
boots,
water bottle,
dirty gum-stuck Sidewalk,
etc. reality.
“what fantasy?”
well said.
but blondyn bit his tongue.
if only he could say, but where to start—
dream was already beginning to fade.
just like that, fantasy became for the capturing.
“gimme a second…”
blondyn sat up, pulled out his iPhone.
began typing iNotes.
fast scenes of the vision.
“it’s moving at lightspeed…”
Stranger flashed the wtf face—
blondyn went on typing—
ADHD notes on fast track—
a skit-sketch—
bulletesque—
raw Hemingway report—
v_1.0.0.1 super beta.
“the dream,” he added, “the story…”
at the explanation,
Stranger was more confused yet,
nonetheless, hadn’t the time to hang around.
“Why are you sleeping on the streets?”
b had heard the q before.
many times. different ways.
some days, he was in the mood to test the waters.
“o, you know…” said blondyn, “just tryin’ to catch some Zzz…”
while Stranger pressed for words,
blondyn tapped the last details of the dream in his phone,
closed the app,
and winked an eye in appreciation to Stranger.
“but you woke me with righteous timing,” he said, “and i thank you for that.”
blondyn stretched to the light.
felt his shirt, slightly sweaty in Spring/Summer Sun warming.
disgusting, sure, but the day appeared perty
and he knew he’d be on to the gym ‘n showering soon.
“Why are you here?”
Stranger wanted answers, fast.
blondyn grabbed a boot.
slipped it on, started lacing up.
“writing.”
Stranger continued gazing.
His expression affirmed the response explained everything.
Truth is, it nearly did.
“I left you that.”
Stranger pointed to a wad of one dollar bills on the pavement.
dollar bills so dirty
blondyn initially thought Stranger had brought him more NYC litter.
“For Bacon and Coffee.”
blondyn raised his eyes.
just like that,
Stranger had flipped the confusion back onto the instigator.
“bacon and coffee?”
blondyn said it like he’d never heard such a thing.
“Breakfast,” said Stranger, “Protein,” he added, “Keep you strong.”
the money looks like bacon, thought blondyn.
bacon that’d been dipped in coffee.
she didn’t know blondyn was a vegan on the street-life diet.
as ponderin’ on how there was no way he was touching that thing, he smiled at the gesture.
“thanks Stranger,” said blondyn, “you’re my Good Samaritan.”
suddenly,
Good Samaritan visibly warmed,
but like classic NYC, not wanting to be one to show it.
“Take care of yourself.”
Just like that, Good Samaratan walked yonder.
“good ole nyc.”
even on the weekend,
the setting was at work to wake you for the dawn.
just like that, blondyn rose, packed, got on the run.
blondyn
CC
2015
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