This goes along with #1. I'll get #2 posted soon. |
Letter from St. Augustine #3 Today I had to make three phone calls by two o'clock. Before I was able to complete the third call, A suckling pig Appeared at my door,apple in mouth. The pig was served up on the long snout of a roan horse: I could not speak. The encrusted brown skin of the pig' contrasted exquisitely with the Apple's green. I looked the horse directly in his third eye. He neighed, whinnied, reared up, And the pig fell to the porch floor. I thought little of it and returned to my chore. Instead of hearing a dial tone on the phone instuctions were being spoken in a recorded voice: "Tend your kalanchoes so that they will grow to blossom. Write a precise history of bouganvilla. Refine your knowlege of native plants, And discover more." I looked out the window. Thirteen seagulls appeared in the Northeast corridor. Swallowtail butterflies were gathering nectar from confetti lantana under the Live Oaks. The warm November sun was crooning Its confident song: "I have you now," it murmured, "and at night, you belong to the moon and the stars. Why do you not sleep outside?" I was astonished that the sun had immediately gone to the heart of the matter with a sword of six words. I fell to my knees and faced the sky. I thought perhaps I was being prepared for a Vision. On my right, in the clouds, the jaw of a white shark opened. It was about to close down on a bull being ridden by a caped matador. I could not watch. Nor could I ponder the ethics of food chain behaviour. Instead, I wondered why I was living to be so old. I turned toward my house. I had one phone call to go. Tall sunflowers grew by the side door. I saw their dark centers bleed into gold. |