Something Cavernous this Way Blinds

by dschapman

A quilted and cavernous light is making its way around the bend. You can see it reflected in the glistening cobblestone street. I’ve always hated cobblestone; the smock, the discomfort, the way the snow turns to slush and puddles up around it. But God give me the serenity to accept the things that I cannot change. Were I a paver, I would pave it over with smooth, modern asphalt, and the snow would melt away in the inevitable midday sun. Pardon me while I sidestep into this alleyway; the cavernous light must not overtake me; we will be safe in this alleyway. It will pass right be. Come, come. You’ll be blinded if you stay in the open street.

Something tastes of death but no one would dare call the light deathly. A little boy alone on the toilet calls the light kind of mean. The cynicist by the newsstand remarks in passing that it’s empty. The over-emotional romantic, blinded by her own inhibition, has the inclination to call it beautiful; what does such an inkling know of beauty?

The light passes, and we are safe, as I promised. Now follow me into the darkness.

I was a Crusader, I was a Junky; I was afraid, I was alone. If there is a remedy for this ailment, try to find it. If there isn’t – then never mind it. Turn one eye blindly towards the sun! You will go blind or you will see everything. The lines are beginning to warble like the call of a red-crested warbler from deep inside the woods. Come meet me and my fine-feathered friends; Lucille, the chickadee, and Beaudelaire Rollins, the canary. We dine on peppered veal and fountain drinks. Lucille has Coca-Cola, like a doll; Beaudelaire Rollins, in typical cryptic fashion, mixes all the sodas and calls it a graveyard. Ever a crow, he sits about in the drizzling sunday rain and caws at passing schoolchildren. You can see his coat is black as soot; it is from his childhood, in the coalmines, where he was abused. It made him crooked and disillusioned, and wise beyond his years. He knows too much to say anything about it. He can only caw over my shoulder and scare away my company. He is capable of civil discourse, but only by candelight, in the belfry; or by moonlight in the coopola. The radiation has turned to mist and it sogs into our leggings while we walk. I can’t see a thing in this darkness! It consumes! Whatever happened the Great and Blinding Light? Only moments ago it passed, like a titan, a vast and legless explosion, through the narrow corridors of the city; and now, in its absence, the world has fallen into an immutable darkness through which only the hardiest constitutions persevere; to persist, to persist, in anything undertaken! And I undertake to persist!

Do not be mistaken; my spirits are high! I’m drunk and pissing off the rooftop in glory. I’m having a ball – it’s nice while it lasts. I have enjoyed many delicacies in my time. The earth has many fruits, and I am intimately familiar with the finest. I would introduce you, if you would like to learn. We will have a ball together – it’ll be nice while it lasts. When we were young, and witty, and danced in mannerisms long-forgotten, we would wrestle in the sand and outrun the coyotes in their nightly sprints. We were spiritual lovers, and we would make love on the sand while the waves lapped at our ankles; hah! It makes you sick, doesn’t it? Thinking of us, so juvenile, so exposed, our sex drives cut loose and left to wander and rape; nothing even seemed wrong at the time. We will see ourselves when we look in the mirror, won’t we, and that will be the most frightening thing of all! But meanwhile – you and I will have ourselves a ball.

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