LANGUAGE
He looked at her she looked at me
He winked at her she blinked at me.
Famous he was yet she wanted to leave
Why I asked, ha! She said, I need to breathe...
REASONS
The prevailing darkness bellied the fact that morning had come, the cold wind, resistant cloudy sky betrayed the impending storm, clearly the stage was set, an umbrella was to be man’s best friend... the alternative would be to get wet, rather drenched. Set alarms went off simultaneously reminding the setters that the time had come, irrespective of the roosters’ failure to crow arrival of dawn.
One tossed and turned his mind still adrift in the world of merry dreams, dreams he often had to replace reality. A reality he sought to avoid by staying clear of the awakened world of men, a comedy to which the insistent alarm clock was proving to be the remedy. Tossed he did one more time, turning to cast a murderous glare at his unforgiving assailant. Drawing a blank stare, a grumpy snore, smiles and a greeting that was wary, his reply was brief for his roommates weren’t waiting for a reply. A quick heartfelt prayer, he jumped down from his bunk, his day was about to begin in a hurry.
To the left it went next to the right, until perfectly perfect it was hanging freely. In outstanding dark contrast to the white shirt on which it lay it’s back for service to this choleric observer with a twitching nose who set about the perfectly perfect process again.
He waltzed about his standard room arms akimbo rehearsing for the best part of the day his how, when and where. Mid stride he stopped to take in his focused inanimate crowd. His face contorted and is if by some revelation he made a sharp turn that ended with himself facing the door, all in anticipation of the heavy footed intruder at the doors edge.
A series of knocks confirmed his revelation. Breathing a sigh of relief, he went for his suit. Slipping into it like a slick second skin he pulled at sleeves, collars then tails, perfect. In a sensationally baritone voice he announces like the butlers’ of old...
“You may enter”.
The door squeaks to life rotating about its hinges with dictated hesitation at revealing its handler. An apologetic bow, a courteous greeting and flurry of fashion exultations, tautological words express his joy at being here at a time such as this. He stands at attention beaming with the smiles of a million “souly” expectant of this union.
Him, as calm as ever simply raises an eyebrow. Smiling, he raises an arm to give leverage to the finger scratching his temple, trying to rid it of some air-conditioned irritation. A sudden thought graces his mind and there is a pause, he sweeps the room with a sharp spin, a split stop, brisk strides and he is out of the room leaving the heavy footed handler scurrying about picking up the neatly stacked materials on the table.
In her dream she sang, in the shower she sang, before the make-up tending mirror she sang and to the applauding dismay of her forced listeners she sang. To memory the songs had been committed, to memory they are yet she sang. Swaying from side to side before the semi full length mirror she nipped, tucked, powdered and as such... all the while honing her smiles which were her home grown seeds to be sown in the hearts of some. Not for the masses heavens no but for the benefit of those hierarchically placed needy.
As for those seeds sown in soils unwanted tongue weeding would be their lot.
In a haze she walks, excuse me, my apologies... in a trance she walks arms about her sides, head propped forward and face contorted, reflecting her inner spiritual pain. Into the room she went, into her room she came.
Tear filled eyes greeted her roommates for their sins weakened her tear producing nerves evoking their free flowing penance for their dark crimes. Adjusting her sanctified robe, aside she swept a strand of her hair, sending the prodigal strand back home.
A disappointing look from side to side, corner to corner, a swift 180 degree turn she made to face the bed made holy.
“aaaaaaaaaaaaaaH!” the holy scream rent the air into shreds, for a few were rocked awake, back they went upon identifying the reincarnating sight. The body clad in righteousness is let loose as the arms drop to her sides, eyes open wide mouth agape, a few prodigal hair strands plus rogue veins...
An earphone is produced, a book, magazine and newspaper all in an attempt to avoid the venomous barrage of flying spittle.
The holy head gear is tossed aside, head shaken to let fly in a gyrating Rasta fashion unleashing the prodigal lot... feet set apart, arms in the air invoking the wrath of khan...
The righteous covering is set aside and self proclaimed unborn again side of the phoenix is revealed. Questioning who, what and why plus consequences for they that shifted the bucket, touched the table and a naked edge of the bed revealed.
