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Post-Acid Sunday

  By Brett Clay Miller

  Copyright 2014 Brett Clay Miller

  Contents

  Impersonating Lawrence

  Managing the Layers

  Cooking the Books

  Morning Light

  Same Cow, Different Pasture

  Binge, Purge and Evacuate

  Tunnel Vision

  How to Fold a Map

  Flotsam

  Undressing at the Microphone

  Toeing the Line

  The Inadvertent Summit

  Brothers

  Hiring Freeze

  The Eye of the Behoarder

  The Moment Before

  Threading the Needle Backwards

  Guilt by Association

  Conundrum

  The Dangers of Cross-Breeding

  Post-Acid Sunday

  He(lium)

  Leave-Taking

  “So, You Haven’t Forgotten Me.”

  Metaphorically Freaking

  Fan Fare

  Stapler Fodder

  The Unmistakable Prelude

  Capitol Hill

  Creatures of Habit

  DIY Gone Awry

  Road Trip

  A Spin on Isaac's Wheel

  The Day I Discovered The Cure

  The Dark Side of Bric-a-Brac

  The Poetry Nazi

  Bringing the Boys Home

  As the Streetlights Wake

  Overheard in the Orchard

  Sign of the Times

  Machinations of Flight

  August 43rd

  About the Author

  * * *

  Impersonating Lawrence

  While thoughtfully chewing a late

  lunch and casting about aimlessly,

  I chanced upon a color

  with no name; a friendly

  green with a sense of

  high fashion. I took the liberty of

  dubbing him “Low-Voltage Algae”, for no

  other reason than to create for myself

  a mental handhold. We proceeded to discuss

  the merits of “Seafoam” and “Kelly”; “Moss”

  and “Forest”; “Olive” and “Lime”; “Bottle” and

  “Galapogas”; enthusiastically agreeing that any hue is

  a thing to be fervently

  embraced, but that the nameless

  ambiguity of the shades between

  is unsettling to the beholder

  as well as the beheld.

  Managing the Layers

  Though I grieve the natives

  and the night-sounds, perhaps

  it is best that I've

  retreated to the forest, where

  I can inspect the grey

  in my beard and fret over random

  misspellings, because here a path is just

  a path, not a street corner in

  a neighborhood where once I lived; or

  ran wild with my pack; or married;

  or buried. Here, at least, the ground

  cover is shallow, and if I take

  on the accent of this

  region, my every vowel can

  burst with implication, and I

  will have something to pack

  when it becomes too crowded.

  Cooking the Books

  Simply stated, my task is

  to generate snippets and systematically

  coax them to life; to

  somehow determine whether they collectively

  represent a symbiotic community with

  a viable infrastructure or only a ragtag

  band of misfits having little more than

  a smoldering campfire to their name. Paradoxically,

  I am ignorant of the endgame until

  the final player stands breathless in front

  of me, dripping collapsed sentence structure from

  his unkempt hair and itching to relay

  the messages in his charge,

  thereby passing to me the

  burden of formulating from his

  dispatch a feasible strategy that

  won't get us all killed.

  Morning Light

  I am awakened by the

  sound of another conviction slipping

  out the back door with

  shoes in hand, still wearing

  yesterday's opinions. I am left

  to consider the newly empty space beside

  me with consternation and a bit of

  shame, and it occurs to me to

  wonder who will be left if and

  when the rain abates. It is in

  this quiet moment that I am able

  to fully acknowledge my preference for stringing

  together more quiet moments, and

  I try without success to

  remember the name of the

  ridiculous dance I attempted on

  the night of my wedding.

  Same Cow, Different Pasture

  Though habitually late for the

  knife, she exudes a quiet

  wisdom beyond her breed. As

  it was in the grasslands

  when I was eleven, so

  it is in the foothills today: when

  I dodge the clock to sit astride

  this machine and venture out, I am

  inexorably drawn to her.  She hasn’t a

  hurried bone in her substantial frame, and

  yet she claims to care little for

  idle navel-gazing. Regarding me across the

  barbed-wire fence, she ignores

  my usual greeting and, with

  a twitch of the tail

  that is more afterthought than

  intention, turns her head away.

  Binge, Purge and Evacuate

  What goes through a desperate

  man’s head as he abandons

  everything he owns and redeems

  the only currency left to

  his name: the door, and

  not for the last time? How much

  will fit into a one-hundred-dollar

  1971 Dodge Dart? Why do art supplies

  make the cut, but school yearbooks do

  not? The widening trail of his castoffs

  courses through the years like iodine through

  a vein, cluttering the thrift store he

  once frequented but now abhors.

  Is it third-hand filth

  that quickens his step toward

  the exit or only the

  stench of his own snobbery?

  Tunnel Vision

  My towers are crenellated for

  aesthetic reasons, but the historical

  context of this design is

  not lost on me, so

  I find myself pacing the

  battlements at dusk, distractedly contemplating the likelihood

  of a genuine siege. Such dogged trepidation

  has a knack for constricting my perspective,

  reducing the periphery to a disregarded shambles.

  When this troublesome guest makes an appearance,

  all others fade into the tapestries, and

  the ruckus in the hall spontaneously quiets,

  as if the entire structure

  might hike up its skirts

  and skitter away, leaving only

  this room; this chair; this

  heartbeat; this bead of sweat.

  How to Fold a Map

  My u-turns are not figurative;

  my violently flashing engine light

  no cleverly masked allusion. Yet,

  here I am: headlights off,

  slumped low in my seat,

  cruising the crumbling outskirts of
another driving

  metaphor. I am not shamed by my

  repeated tours of this city but rather

  chagrined that each time I believe it

  to be my first visit. By contrast,

  though admittedly ponderous to traverse and stretching

  beyond the limits of my fickle vision,

  the prairie habitually breeds perspective,

  where it can be promptly

  field-dressed, packaged, and carried

  back to the highlands in

  tidy bundles for future consumption.

  Flotsam

  We are the products of

  currents greater than ourselves, wholly

  subject to the ways and

  whims of a fickle sea,

  alternately riding the troughs of

  friendly wakes or fighting submersion by rogue

  waves. Though our opposition will render it

  no less salty, many choose to resist

  the tide. Having utterly exhausted my spirit

  in this manner, arguably to the point

  of maximal saturation, I find myself on

  my back, searching the clouds for patterns.

  I have begun to suspect

  that the sun will rise

  and set as long as

  I float, whether I elect

  to bask or to bake.

  Undressing at the Microphone

  When we remove our shirts,

  it is arguable that we

  are not extraordinarily disparate, only

  desperate to show that we

  still breathe. As each poet

  passes to and from the mic, however,

  it becomes apparent that we represent one

  of two tribes, each of us branded

  with either a pigeon on the left

  chest or a hummingbird on the right

  shoulder blade. As the reading progresses, expelled

  stanzas muddle the air, and the hummingbirds

  surreptitiously back out of the

  room in a staggered exodus,

  leaving the pigeons to collectively

  cock their heads, regroup, and

  peck for crumbs amongst themselves.

  Toeing the Line

  I've yet to settle on

  the sport that most intrigues

  me—preferring the low-key

  pace of figurative scrimmages over

  that of high-stakes tournaments—

  but I've managed to narrow the field

  to these: tetherball, in which the object

  of play either lies impotent on the

  ground or is unceremoniously tied to a

  pole and struck repeatedly; or roller derby,

  in which the player adopts a flippantly

  fearsome moniker, emblazons it across her shoulders

  and skates about in a

  circle, artfully evading those who

  would jostle her to the

  side, incessantly arriving at destinations

  I will never even approach.

  The Inadvertent Summit

  Boulders, for the most part,

  can be trusted. Liberally mottled

  with ancient lichen, they exude

  a comforting mass beyond proper

  comprehension. They are disinclined to

  budge from their beds, but the hair-

  raising clamor of their approach when they

  are on the move is warning enough

  for most. Pebbles, however, are an entirely

  different breed: these little cousins are mean-

  spirited, with a tendency to quietly filch

  our traction and precipitate magnificent spills. I’ll

  reserve my trust for a

  sun-baked rock large enough

  to bear the weight of

  my body and the weight

  of time in equal measure. 

  Brothers

  Most deer have learned to

  cautiously skirt the edges of

  the human populace, making only

  occasional forays into the gardens

  of men to nab a

  snack.  Some of the more distracted bucks,

  however, have a tendency to lose themselves

  in the city in the course of

  their reflective wanderings, trotting with eyes wide

  and fur unkempt across busy intersections, making

  a general nuisance of themselves as they

  frantically search for the way back. As

  our eyes meet through the

  windshield, it occurs to me

  that the only things that

  distinguish me from him are

  jeans and a steering wheel. 

  Hiring Freeze

  I find that watching a

  movie is akin to hiring

  a world-renowned consultant and

  tasking him with the execution

  of my most toxic blunders.

  Fully cognizant of the inevitable fallout, I

  maintain a safe distance, cringing in my

  reclining back-row seat. The harsh reality

  of this tactic is that I have

  managed to outsource only a minuscule portion

  of my prolific potential for error; the

  director’s creative vision does not necessarily match

  my own; and I am

  both behind schedule and over-

  budget. At this point, my

  only hope for redemption lies

  with the post-credits scene. 

  The Eye of the Behoarder

  As we carefully pick our

  way between the listing towers

  of baffling clutter in your

  home, you alternately (and with

  little transition) find and then

  promptly lose crucial objects (along with your

  geniality) in forgotten hidey-holes. I am

  overwhelmed with a compulsion to escape the

  gravitational mayhem of your lawless domain, after

  which I will rush home and purge

  my crawl-space of all curiosities and

  collections, along with any item older than

  my vehicle, if only to

  prove my dysfunction milder than

  your own, even if my

  mixed feelings are all that

  remain to me to sort.

  The Moment Before

  Strolling out of the library

  into the late afternoon sun,

  preceded by a frenzy of

  little-girl-sized energy in

  four-year-old packages, she

  answers her friend, “Because he has a

  gig. Is that the right word? I

  always feel stupid when I say it.”

  Across town her husband leaves work early

  to buy new strings for his upcoming

  performance. She doesn’t understand his music (the

  context is a bit murky), and his

  physical presence doesn’t necessarily translate

  to emotional engagement, but they’ll

  always end up at home

  together, perhaps because she’s willing

  to say the word “gig”. 

  Threading the Needle Backwards

  Never have the consequences of

  a violent uprising been so

  beautiful. They wait patiently, reclining,

  as rock will tend to

  do. A ride along their

  twisted spine has the uncanny power to

  straighten my own, as if the odometer

  is a shelf, and every mile is

  a trophy. When the sun dips below

  the peaks, though, and a palpable chill

  permeates the air, each of us must

  decide whether to enter the darkening canyon

  or fight the crosswind on

  the plains. Though undenia
bly a

  weighty decision, the more pressing

  issue, I think, is the

  matter and manner of propulsion.

  Guilt by Association

  He speaks too loudly and

  with the irreverent wisdom peculiar

  to random hikers chance met.

  Though his tactless counsel helps

  me to my feet and

  escorts me upright to my destination, I

  would beseech him to tread the trail

  silently if ever we return to this

  chapel in the forest. Instead, he carelessly

  drops an apt but clumsy metaphor in

  the midst of this sacred space, jesting

  of the inadvisability of stopping within a

  slow herd of moving cows,

  and suddenly my footfalls, once

  single-minded and purposeful, become

  nothing better than the irksome

  habits of a waffling disciple. 

  Conundrum

  Ours is a culture in

  which marijuana dispensaries sprout without

  irony beside sandwich shops, yet

  thirty minutes southwest there is

  a dirt road whose quiet

  is constructed of wind and birdsong; that

  sees more activity from the quiver of

  aspen leaves than from the passage of

  any vehicle; where one can be confronted

  with relics of his past and not

  be swayed by them. This is a

  wildly appropriate province for the man of

  extremes, who sees middle ground

  as treacherous territory, suitable only

  for pushing through; who is

  nevertheless relegated to a small

  apartment in that very region.

  The Dangers of Cross-Breeding

  once a Golden with

  his ball; now a Pekingese,

  scrunch-faced and grumpy

  Post-Acid Sunday

  When we were painfully young

  and equally indiscriminate, we would

  cheerfully abuse ourselves until the

  dawn arrived, agonizingly bright and

  habitually vacillating, ushering in the