Rocks

It was amazing. He was. People were very curious. He could tell you everything about rocks; where, when, and how the power from the earth’s yawns threw millions of tons of rocks here and there, the elements of this and that, all the properties, all the minerals that make up a single rock, and also, millions of rocks. The scars on the rocks, especially, he seemed most fascinated with. This gave him information about the rock’s life. From this information he could tell whether or not the rock was having a happy life? Obviously he had travelled deep into the molecular world. He was communicating with ghosts and happenings long forgotten. But still: he wondered, how much deeper ---can I go? You see, he wasn’t sure of something ---Why?

He sat, wondering?-swiveling in his chair. Time passed, everything continued as normal, until the sun changed its angle and spotlighted a whiskey bottle. The whiskey bottle was ‘touched’, his thoughts. He sat hypnotized with the view; it was a shooting star, a hero in a novel, or, a gateway to his dreams, perhaps an answer to ---How much deeper can I go?! How much! He stood up and zigzagged towards the whiskey bottle.

He knew it was dangerous, mixing booze with a mad-scientists brain, but, slowly, he convinced himself ---- he didn’t give a f#*@k! After his first step he stumbled and then fell towards the sun-kissed, sparkling amber-colored booze bottle, his thoughts about the bottle. He audaciously poured himself a double, and quickly, after several sips, he knew all judgment would soon fly far far away? He kept drinking, and then drank straight out of the bottle, to eventually be swinging the bottle wildly.

He slammed the empty bottle next to his chemistry kit, with his mad-scientist, now drunk laugh. He grabbed a beaker of rock dust and a test tube filled to the brim with something very molecular?-And slammed it! He drank it all in one breath. It was chugged! He slowly sat down. He grabbed one leg and crossed it over the other. He looked at the clock …He quickly became impatient …He ran to his room and rifled through his closet, only to find his ---‘special-stuff’ ---molecular this and rock dust from deep in the earth’s belly, very special stuff!

Now so equipped with double the amount of molecular stuff used earlier, he mixed and blended this with the ‘very special stuff’, and chugged the now-accelerator to …somewhere else? ---he did this in a single breath!?-Once again. Now his impatience waned completely and he was drifting …

He was alive, he was sure, yes, very alive, and then he was stone cold dead, and then, alive, very alive, as his D.N.A. mixed with the millenniums. He would say later it was the ---‘special stuff’ that finally forced him …over.

He was very alive, and this time, also, awake. Everything spread out below him. He was three hundred feet tall. His legs are strong. His arms could easily fight through hurricane winds. A huge bird’s nest nestles on his shoulder. The chicks are hungry. Their cries are deafening. Now he was a bird. He barely puts on the brakes, free-falling thousands of feet. Dinner might be served on time …

But now he sees himself come at himself. He’s the prey. At him, the ‘bird of prey’ makes its approach …it ducks down to move through the gravity faster …She swans dives down closer. She needs to get a better look.

The prey is terrified. He’s running in the wrong direction. The right direction changes by the moment; a move to the right to the left, a 90 degree turn, a this, a that, his blood can be felt scorching through his veins. He finds protection, a hole in the earth. He’s safe.

Now he’s a single blade of grass. He reaches his arms up as high as he can. He pushes down with his feet while pulling himself up ---and has never felt the sun feel so good on his face. But suddenly something is stopping him. A man has unraveled a towel to lie on, on top of that single blade of grass plus more grass.

Now …He ducks his head as he leaves his shed. He’s inspired as he picks up his easel, paint brush and paint. He walks a mile just too be right where that tree has the wind race up the mountain, with the birds cutting across the horizon.

He could be this, he could be that, in this century, in this millennium, in love with this historic woman, or this historic man, it didn’t matter, Because ---All he wants to do is sit right there and watch the tall trees be refreshed by the wind, and the birds fly, as he ‘let’s everything go’ ---“Sigh!”

The End

In Search of Sunsets

…It was in their college herb class where their eyes first caught each other’s stare. Then the smiles came with a lot of blushing. Now it was a friend to go to lunch with ---now it was a time to hold hands on their way to lunch ---now it was time to sneak a kiss, a bunch of kisses ---now they were in love …

They saw it all, just enough for them, on the walks they took together. After herb classes, after the identification of millions of plants, millions of herbs, photosynthesis, sugar, a lot of energy, millions of everything that was fueled solely through solar power, one day as they were walking ---they stopped: A sunset sat on a tree at noon, in a particlar city, in our world ---near all of us.

It all started from the ground up; in the dirt beneath all our feet. It was a tree twisting the sun’s now marvelous delusions all by itself. You could see the roots below were searching to make sure that the tree, where it was visible, had the strength to hold that sunset for ---three months straight, a season: And to provide a sunset at any time of the day! This discovery was huge. It was new, novel even, I mean, a sunset at any time of the day?

They quickly had to find a place to make love. But …instead, they started to laugh. They looked across the landscape and saw millions and a million more sunsets and, then, they slowly began to make love ---only to make love really really really fast, just to slow it all down again, he had to take a moment, those lips, he thought, just have to be kissed.

The End