On The Write Path

A Feast of Crocs

Gather by the pool, eyes glazed, mouths open; bask in the heat! We'll glare, surrounded by wafts of sulphur, the sounds of steam, the mist. Will you care?

We've seen a deep blue sea, seen bubbling mud, rested our bruised and swollen feet in cleansing pools of heat. We've even eaten buns steamed or eggs boiled by these ovens. How would you lizards taste? Would we be tasty as well? The spell is broken by a peacock's cry, the urge to see a deep red pool, an eruption of steam at another Hell.

If this steamy place weren't overrun by sightseers, we would be tempted to sit by a milk-white pool, become eveloped by warm mist, forget about you hungry crocs, get lost in steamy thoughts.

© Kåre Enga 28.march.2015 (edited 19.april.2015.)

Images of the Hells of Kannawa near Beppu, Kyushu, Japan. Sent in a postcard to Joyce Chicoine, Montana.

Original:

They gather by the pool, eyes glazed, mouths open, basking in the heat. We glare, surrounded by the wafts of sulphur, the sound of steam, the mist. They do not care. We've seen the deep blue sea, seen the bubbling mud, rested our bruised or swollen feet in cleansing pools of heat. We've even eaten steamed buns or boiled eggs. How would these lizards taste? How would we taste as well? The spell is broken by a peacocks cry, the urge to see a deep red pool, an eruption of steam at another hell. If it were natural and not an amusement park overrun by sightseers we would be tempted to sit by a milk-white pool, become eveloped by warm mist, forget about the hungry crocs, get lost in steamy dreams.

© Kåre Enga 28.march.2015

Sent to Joyce Chicoine, Montana.

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