Abner

Light rays dress the sky.
Shadows bone the night.
It was inside the pale green eventide that the blood shows itself.
A yellow bus stops and children column out onto the grass in outfits made of bees.
A man walks a tight rope from the kitchen to the horizon’s edge.
It rains coal and daffodils.
A man, dressed in cornbread, stands with a rope in his hand which is tied to an ostrich. A crow sits on the man’s shoulder and asks, “Can I hide my horse in your garage so the farmer’s wife won’t dance with him?”
A city bustles in the stirs of morning dew while a tornado prances from cloud to cloud to find its place among all the reindeer.
The insect’s sensitive mouth quivers in the parting light.
Words strike hard faces.
Long fingers clutch at the final ribbons of nightfall.
Teeth grind in the loud quiet.
Marching trees blow their horns.
“I don’t mean to scare you,” says the praying mantis, “But I’ve been told to come over here and eat you.”
“Is this the way home?” asks the child with no mouth.
Shire horses stand in an open field. A shadow of an egg rolls down a tree and onto the ground. The horse stares at it and pushes it with its beak. The egg cracks open and out walks a dwarf. The dwarf has a long red beard that touches the ground. He wears a white suit with a black cowboy hat. The dwarf smiles before it shatters.
“Linda, is that you?”
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Awake, awake, awake, awake.
Inside the soft random light of an autumn morn, sways of curtains, in patterns of flowers colored black and white, caress the wood paneling of Abner’s room.
A lamp with a tilted shade stands on a night table. White sheets are crumpled to the side. A half-eaten pizza falls to the floor.
A digital clock flashes 9:59 a.m.
Half awake.
A hand reaches out toward the nightstand.
Eyes scan out.
“Where in the world did I put it? There it is.”
Index finger on a red button. Push.
A flash of light meets sound.