Bones, the Bale & a Genie's Bottle Waiting

Red Hot Chilli Peppers on the radio singing some jazzy funeral dirge for California, rest in peace. Radio. How weird to hear radio out here in the BF Egypt outskirts of Bisbee halfway to Palominas and just a stone's throw from Mexico. But I had to buy a little one, to hear the outside world. Back in the Bale.

Sanctuary. Today I take that name quite literally and be it ever so Munday(ne) in the outside world, clocks ticking and workaday people clicking their heels saying "There's no place like home," (I agree) I pay no heed and never leave the house to begin with. It's a snow day, kids! Donnie flooded the school! I've got the thermometer-under-hot-tap-water flu! Yahoo.

Now what? Emails comin thru. Dad says I oughta return to Maine where there are people who can help promote my book. Ski Bum says come to South America, join Deia and him on their round the horn hike to del Fuego and back up the continent's eastern flank. Mina in my mind says "Minneapolis." My heart of Hope says "Back to the river with ye! Deliver the bottle to the sea." Kate says "Welcome back to Bisbeeland" as do others, many a local friend.

Back five nights now, drunk with James 3, maybe 4. Next day morning hungover psyche says "REHAB!" But even sober yesterday, today all day, shadows crawl across me, blot out all Hope. Stormy in my dreams returns, says "No pain will follow you into this night of nights." And I am tempted, by everything and nothing, and once again alone. Jack says, "Go roll your bones, alone." No, Jack. You went it alone with pickled nose and slur in young old age, and I don't wanna go that "Road," Jack. I wan't love again, or at very least a partner with whom I share scent attraction. Like dogs, yes, I gotta smell her. Let animal attraction do the rest.

Five dozen dreams sit in a lovely genie bottle on the table 'neath my loft bed. I fear I have taken on a mission I cannot finiish, a burden I cannot bear.

For now I will sit here in the desert and wait. Perhaps the genie will come for her bottle, roll me up and stuff me inside with all the others, assimilate me into the stuff of dreams. And I will think no more. - RSM
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