USA

Good One

…and the stars said,
"shhhh…here he
comes…"
They crouched behind
houses and barns
and balanced on the
branches of trees,
holding their breath.
They held hands and
draped themselves from
pole to pole, just
behind the telephone wires,
they nestled under
crow's feathers, and
watched him come down
Mechanic street.
Blinded by headlights,
head full of confetti,
stubbing his toes in
sidewalk cracks,
thinking about this
and that and then
this again, not happy or
unhappy, but stuck in his
head like a man who wakes up in
a deserted movie theater
after closing.
Yellow hydrant means
left on Park, and then…
he hears a snicker from
above him and he
looks up –
nothing. Just the ancient
oak tree that had grown around the
rusted iron bracket, just a sky that is
blacker than gray,
grayer than black.
Collar up, head down –
What the hell? It
sounds like laughter, straight up, and
he looks and GOOD GOD IF
THE SKY ISN'T A RIOT OF LIGHT!
He stands in the middle of
the street like a
yokel seeing his first
airplane, mouth open, eyes
wide, mesmerized by
a billion billion
billion frozen flash bulbs.
Then
he smiles and says
"good one", knowing
full well how
hard it will be to
top this prank.

© All Copyright, 4/26/06, Dave Morrison.
All Rights Reserved. Printed By Permission.