The Journey East, a breath of Spring

The monsters danced gloriously as I drove closer to the sky. I came upon the womb of the earth, azure blue above, a perfect palate of greens, browns, oranges, creams below, majestic mountains giving way to separated mesas to rolling painted plains. There was a surge at the exit for Sky City and a tearing as I bid Clovis goodbye. I wondered where was home. Not here in this paradise surely, but I knew I would be back as soon as spirit could arrange it. I have work in Sky City, another portal to arrange. My heart grew glad again in soul music at the Mississippi at Memphis. I did not cry crossing east this time. I came closer to my Rainbow Warrior and felt curious, uplifted, cautious. Pushing onto Kentucky, the land grew barren. Winter clung, spring was a dream shared between the trees, birds, and me. The people became more dense and I couldn’t play tag with their spirits. I had to push hard to seed the compost, clotheslines, water, food, and air dreams. My heart dropped, but I was determined to draw on the transmission towers from Fenton, Missouri, knowing that the Thunderbird would soon be assisting me with spring storms and the trees would soon be coming to life in soft-kissed chartreuse and blushing blossom. There was a saloon east of Clovis that the Dreamers like to convey. It had an older frontier flavor than the coffeeshop in Sac at the final frontier. There is no gold here, but turquoise, silver, copper. There are oxen to hitch to wagons and horses to break, groom, and take us further. We’re not there yet Brother. Oh, not yet. You smile at me, laughing at the spurs on your boots and the turkey feather adorning my fedora. You dream up some chaps and a large brass belt buckle for me. My knife is two inches longer and sheathed at the side of my canvas pants. You wonder how I will look when we get to the next destination and you take my hair down. For now, you can only see the twinkle of laughter in my eyes. Calamity Jane, I enjoy immensely not being a girl, and wonder if you would return me to that Greek pool where my sisters and I learned the siren song of seduction. You say I know this all too well, with a wink. You’ll think of something even better, but for now, sit down and have a whiskey with you. I pull out a cigar and revel in the sweet tobacco smell, handing it to you. I’ll smoke to that.


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