collaborating tides

creative collaborations ..

 

the wayward walkers,

alone or introvert the implicit of signs

 

those who grew stronger still

standing at the expanse of,

the edge of walked by and not walked over,

until ..

 

we,

sat at the top and looked over,

 

 

and i’ll tell you stories ..

 

this one starts: there is a photograph of a small child,

the perspective of a flower, and a man’s half hidden painting of a woman

 

the flower always screamed alive until at night it fell down with the sun

again to greet it the next day, finding always, it fell on a similar parallel

 

it saw a foot pass by mid day,

two legs,

or four

some furry,

covered or shaven,

the crack of a penny dropping beneath it

the ball that rolled too close,

water, sometimes a drop, a spit, or a spew

it hears sounds that soar to the sun,

shouts or screams, whispers,

the wind, from behinds and mouths and (where does the wind come from) the wind

it danced with it

it saw the building rise and then fall,

the rolling of wheels on a deck on feet flying downward

a song,

a man on a knee,

a woman on a knee,

two women falling to their knees,

.. shots unseen

& then, the transfer : i was plucked and i died at that moment though they found me to live on in a vase on a table that looked through a window, and i saw the tops of buildings until i was emptied with other things, such as rotten banana peels, soiled diapers, coffee filters, a tissue, a tag, and a perfectly fine half eaten tomato

 

the photograph of a small child sits in my wallet,

the man asked for my id and i instinctively handed that to him,

it is not a photo of me,

i am not sure who it is,

i know where it came from ..

i found it perusing your store,

there was a woman who walked in,

after a minute she began to cry, sobbing

she was wailing almost instantly,

two people who worked there went to her,

one touched her back and the other looked around as if hoping for an answer, until she locked eyes with a tissue box and it seemed to have said “come here” so she went to it, and got lost in it for a while

the rest of the store stared,

that’s when i found you,

i had not noticed it until everyone else stopped noticing but staring at the woman,

barely tucked under a table as if it had fallen out and directly under at that angle where it could almost get caught,

i picked it up and found the forlorn look on the child’s small face rather inviting,

there was a red to the childs cheeks,

a blue garment worn and the faded colors of the background of some trees and hills

the child’s feet were cut off from the frame and it could have been twenty years ago that this happened,

i looked around and put it in my wallet and walked away at the sound of a distant wail growing softer

 

the painting, we found it in between the wall and a sofa tucked rather closely to the door

the man was preparing tea,

we were uncomfortably shifting in our seats, looking at each other,

stolen glances at the thing,

shifted smiles,

then questioning brows

until we sat straighter upon his entrance into the room,

he was soft and smiling, light wispy hair

we weren’t sure what we would say but we had questions

we began with tea and sugar cubes,

the view from the rather large window in the middle of the room

the pond outside

the finely fabricated upholstery, i.e. curtains 

shifting shoes, wing tips & loafers with polka dot socks & sandals with a slight wedge

a click and a laugh and another click of a tea cup on a tea plate,

a tea fork and a soft, spongy pastry

where? we asked

when? we asked

what? he asked

all the while the woman half looked at us, and half .. we could not tell where the other half of her face stared

perhaps to the washroom as an indicator of what would happen next,

somewhere i smelled corn tortillas

i heard a piano playing

a door close,

he said a smiling farewell, leaving us each with a small brown parchment bag that carried the remainders of pastries and muffins baked earlier that week

the front door closed, we turned toward another and smiled,

the woman’s eye with us.

 

 

so i told you these stories, so that you would know.

we are better together than we had been alone, walking in the circles of a forest with pieces of imagination that led to the other places,

for now, i can share the illumination of iris and you see it too.

& the irrelevant moment of finding a chestnut shell under a chestnut tree is spectacular. 

copyright 2018 ⓒ / forrest gallagher