stone angel ...

It was just a glimpse …

of stone wings, cold, still feathers carved
imperfectly and numb with weight.
Do they ache to flex and beat the heavy
silence in a fury of wild sound and
fluid motion unrepressed by form at last?

It was just a thought …

of that stone gaze, fixed forever, sightless
reverie, unbound fantasies of flight
denied by abject artist and the mourning
of another life curtailed then lost in
fading names on tomb and sacred promise.

It was just a sense …

of you so close and yet still, untouchable,
opaque evening’s air brushed our
ashen cheeks, then rose while we cannot.
Can summer find a way through
stone, to open hearts of flight unfound?

*image: Luis Royo

check your headlights

So there we are. Everyone takes a chance on eBay, right? Well, everyone knows better than me, as always. I knew it was wrong. When it arrived some days later than it should have done, I knew there was a hitch in the whole thing. I mean, after I did it I started getting the vibes from it. They weren’t too good but backing out by then was impossible. Still, it hasn't hit the credit card yet, so panic can be postponed for a while. But those vibes. Like receiving a dead person’s things.

Don't get me wrong, I don't have any qualms about death itself, though I am hoping (rather than knowing) that I meet THAT change face in face and maybe with some grace. But I am not so sure about the vultures picking away at the belongings left on the beach of life. Debris.

You could say it doesn't matter and there is a lot of recycling we should do, here is one of those ways to do it. Fine. So why did it all feel so icky when it arrived? And how would I know anyway if it was a dead guy's camera that provoked the evil grin and yell of "hi, Shell!" from a postman who really should have been dead on his feet by 10.30 a.m., not grinning preposterously as I lied about having a migraine (to explain why I wasn't dressed at such a godly hour). Geez, I rarely get dressed before the afternoon anyhow, why should I? If I want to paint the living room ceiling what am I going to wear? My skin! You haven't seen the mess I can make with paint, so don't even go there! You would hide every building in the area if you knew for sure I was about to wield a paintbrush! Trust me on that! There is nothing salacious to reveal about my relationship with a brush, though the ladders might have a few interesting things to say.

So, this camera. It felt "wrong". To start with it needed "special" batteries. Well, when anything needs a special whatever then trouble is afoot I can assure you. I know because I am special too. This (trouble) was all confirmed later, when I trailed up to the supermarket and realized that I was a headlight short of a load. Well, for goodness' sake, doesn't everyone test their headlights at mid-day in summer? Anyway, lucky I did, because there was a darkness where there should have been light. The back of the car I had crept really close to so I could see told me so. I wondered if his twitching (the driver in front of me) might have been partly to blame for the darkness in a certain quadrant? Sheesh, some folk have short fuses don't they? My house has those. Lightbulbs explode at a glance (from me).

So, this camera. It didn't work. It said it was on when I inserted the batteries ... well, ok I did it twice but no-one EVER gets them the right way round first time do they? After that ... it was dead. Like its previous owner, I believe. Now what do you say in the email that says you want a refund? "This camera is no more - it is deceased - like its former owner ... no, don't tell me they are both just resting because I KNOW."

So I will await Mr. Carbooter (no, don't even SAY the obvious) and see how it goes. In the meantime I am thinking why didn't I just get one from the supermarket in the first place? I liked the bidding. What have I learned? Check headlights often!