''e's interesting and has good moves, long work

Legs Too Long

Posted in Uncategorized by tetradugenica on May 3, 2016

In progress, draft

My cane collapses in the sweat on the escalator of Berlin-Brandenburg Airport, I am trying to receive my eyes to gusts of wind of sun, useless. Windows block all elements. Behind us is a cop of a toddler, yelling “No, No, No!” to all.

The cane couldn’t take the expansion, it renounces me, once again, my longer and thinner legs, to everyone in range. It is sitting there in two pieces, one abuttinga child with an ice cube filling his mouth, the other wedged between the steps, vibrating as the escalator transmission shifts gears in preparation of a cane-snapping release of torque. I would like to ask this one favor of this ruin, stop anyone from asking questions, I’m afraid I’ll immediately fall in love after hearing their sympathies. Afraid I’ll never be able to return to who I was before their kind gestures.

Glover and I, in all the times we’ve traveled together, have never had a misunderstanding. It makes our work higher class, and even more valuable. We could label it as A-class, no disagreement, but are prevented by European commission directive 2000/13/EC. We no longer know very well if we’re doing anything cool, but we can tell the truth, “my legs are very long” “they’re growing very long.” We can build diesel electric turbines, we can’t label them the way we’d like, each is taller and less conspicuous than the usual. Each puts the air in suspension, and is cushioned by the same air.

The sun and the overhead lights fail to show us a hidden third piece of cane. It’s soft enough to melt if the fire sprinklers heard our song and started trickling. It was an adorable twine of mint and water in the center of the cane, rocked and acquired into the nap of the top and bottom of the supposedly expandable cane.

We are not very far from the business class shelter that is built into the former radio repeater station, I, moving like an old dog, lope in and get good mornings, “this quiet village of fantasy” painted on the walls, mild music plays from the waterfall sound speakers. All waterfall sounds have finished and are being rewritten. We board our plane.

Legs are too long. Legs won’t stop growing. Pants too short. Legs keep showing. Legs too long. Won’t stop growing. Liked to comtest. Like to rest.  The pressure of a hand at at this height melts plastic, it loosens and falls away like attention. I can’t sleep without a zealous guardian who swats my legs away from the windows and the framed photos.  I could easily be a victim of toxic vapors that harmlessly float above the heads of most. Have to make another cane when we land.

To pass the time

I will NOT skip steps. I will NOT jump hedgerows. I will NEVER bypass crosswalks with a stride.  It’s a promise that I break immediately. A spiderlike scribble, a giraffoid lope, Public art’s blue glass reflecting no body,  but long legs lines blurring by. It’s worthless art. It’s shiny like a mouse’s eye. It has no business reflecting my legs.

I cleaned the screen of my new metal shoes  with a relentlessness wipe, reflected in the schedule of my day, 1. to the influence of the soul on the Mpousi brothers, and 2. verified the updates to the safety map of town, which written in English, reminded me where I could travel without being decpitated, elecotrocuted, smashed flat by heavy weights, or chopped to pieces by spinning automated machines . Then without thinking, I clicked on the folder “Capricorn”. I listen to an embedded audio file and the hear something very pure, very beautiful, a clear throated bird gives all my favorite notes, it starts to make day.

Off to find high density metal rods. Off to find hydraulic lines capable of the highest pressures.


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