Letter to Jane

Dearest Queen Jane Parres of Moondance Farm,

With your departure from those currently living on planet Earth, I'd like to send you my congratulations on your completion of this part of your trip.  

You never know what can happen next, but I presume you won't be repeating this voyage in this particular vessel that we all loved so much.  I do feel a bit empty when I long for your company, but I feel very happy and grateful when I think of our time together.  I will try to pass on to others the love and compassion that you always showed to those of us who were lucky enough to have met you.

In the words of Grace Slick, who is not just a donkey:

"Life is change.
How it differs from the rocks.
I've seen their ways too often for my liking.
New worlds to gain.
My life is to survive and be alive for you."

Sincerely,

Dale Ashauer

Who is also probably dead by the time someone finds this message.

October 16, 2021
Moondance Farm

Carrolling in A Dark Wonderland

The walrus rolled up the beach away from the waves. He took the last little oyster with him, she laughing hysterically all the way. She didn't care for the sushi, but she'd found a gold tooth in a piece of caramel the last time they'd visited so it was her favorite place to eat. The sun agreed to talk and the moon smiled, flashing a rainbow ring off her chipped front tooth. 

"Someone removed our lungs before we were born," the carpenter yelled at the sea. He focused on the cracks in the low-sitting stone; each mapped an artery that had been naturally cauterized. Glowing metal poles sizzled fresh tomato skin cracked cups and pine cones. The evening breeze whistled a chewed-gum occlusion on tall trees for recently-departed leafless neighbors.

And time ended. Now was then and only past whatever was before tomorrow. It was meaningless and pointless to eulogize. A couple of football players from Florida and a local college girl blindfolded themselves and sped off across the waves in their flashy cabin cruiser in search of the famous sea captain's tambourine fireside jamboree. 

The carpenter took a deep breath and downed another bottle of pavement coating to smooth the rough surface and continued to stare down the cracks in the rock. The stuff tasted like fire and made it difficult to focus his eyes, but once aligned he felt as though he possessed an almost microscopic vision. As he'd gradually lose focus, his eyes would cross until he wasn't really sure where he was looking until he took the next drink. The sun headed off for tomorrow and the moon raised a suspicious right eyebrow.

He duly noted that everything about the rock was a chemical reaction searching for neutrality. He thought about Jesus, The Devil, and the red-haired girl who knew so much about both. Hounds screamed his name from the inferno and he whispered to her, "I know they can hear me."

Black and white lines reflected from the grinning moon and painted the hypoxic sand where he sat, removing the comfort of gray from everything in his view. - DA 

The time will come (the little Queen said) when we will  talk of many things...
Of music, dancing, happy pasts and what the future brings ~

Jane Parres

LISTEN:  https://www.poetryfoundation.org/play/77052

That Old Car

I see you rolling up to the stop sign and I know
You should be retired by now,
probably poor or frugally delusional and desperate.
Your paint fades in records of weather maps
past decades and slight mishaps
blind spots and small garages.
You lean to the side from years of single driving
Groceries, Bible study and church.
Maybe a birthday party or wedding
making you wish you were young and bothered.
The dent on your front passenger quarter
Those sneaky little parking posts that are too damn small to see.
Still, clean as hospital room inside and out
And not many miles for a gal of your age.

Maybe you are one last gift
passed on by others who were first in line
or one more attempt to help that screwed-up son-of-a-bitch
get his life out of the ditch and headed in the right direction.
First night together left you with a cracked grill
and that feeling that you'd never stop shaking every time you moved.
No good mechanics left in a town that lost its churches and bar.
Roll around the country roads getting high
Thinking of your Grandmother and avoiding highways,
looking for someone to love or punish.

Courtesy of Piker Press
Published June 2020
Article © Dale Ashauer. All rights reserved.
Published on 2020-06-22

God/Prayers/Stuff

God made a wish, but did God make the stars?
I might wish upon a star because then my dreams would all come true.
And those bad dreams...
Wouldn't they come true, too?

That morning star was definitely not a star.
But I'd wish upon it anyhow.
I ask you to look at it.
I might even thank God he let you see it.

I don't usually pray except to say thanks.
If you need a little more help or understanding.
I pray you aren't afraid to ask.

I believe that religion is a genie in a bottle.
Rub it.
That's a shiny bottle you have there.
Don't forget to look at the stars.

Five Cages and a Barbie Doll

Three cats in a cage and two more at the door of 313 W. Fillmore.
Holding the trap door open with his paw, Mr. Biggles foils the attempted capture.
None of them ran away, instead they all sat in the yard
And decided they wouldn't be going anywhere.

Here comes Crazy Katie in her bus.
"Take pictures of my naked Barbie," she said with a devilish grin.
"Ever do it in a school bus?
Not this school bus, but sometime, somewhere?"

The cats pouted and purred.
Nobody really wants to move.
They move because they have to
Or because some opportunity knocked and they listened.

"I love pussy," says Crazy Katie.
She pouted and purred.
"Why don't you guys hop in and we'll go for a ride to the fishmonger?"
The cats jumped on the bus and settled in to their carriers.

"We don't want to leave here," said Mr. Biggles.
"This is our home and we'll fight to stay.
We've been here longer than most of the people in the neighborhood.
We know all the dogs and where the mice hide out."

"I will find you some new mice," said Katie.
And she closed the bus door.
"And the dogs where we're going are all good dogs."
The wheels spun slightly when she let out the clutch.

"We really miss our friend who lived here.
She was like a cat to us.
It's not fair that she left and now we have to leave, too.
Do you think she's coming back?"

"Your friend is in a better place now," said Katie.
"And soon you will be, too."
The bus lumbered across the edge of the drain tile
and crushed part of the privet at the edge of the shelter's parking lot.

The new owners at 313 W. Fillmore were surprised.
Five scrawny and hungry cats showed up at their door one day, all in a pride.
The animal shelter was overwhelmed by the anonymous donation of a bus that contained five cages and a naked Barbie.

Down

I know you would never take us there with you since it's "bad" and "negative" to visit that place.  You would probably think that it's so repugnant; even embarrassing. Not a place to share what you're thinking and expect any reply except for what you already know: there might be something wrong with you. And who wants to hear that?

Soft enough to lay your head on and imagine that it will all feel better soon. No one can find you when they don't know you're lost.  Oh, sure, you might have stepped in a hole now and then and complained of a twisted ankle, but that was years ago. Different paths for sure.  I always figured I knew where you'd be walking if I wanted to find you.

That was about a half-hour too long. I tried not to cry, but that band...those people singing in the row behind me.  They tried so hard. They were certainly trying.  They knew you'd like it and some thought you might hear them and maybe they'd even hear you!  Reading the lyrics while they sing along.  The cleanest of brainwashing.  They have to print the lyrics because nobody has heard these hymns before. I'm more accustomed to religions that have stopped trying so damn hard. Stick around and we'll talk about that right after the song. 

They were your new family, this bunch of singers.  Not like your old family.  We're talkers.  As different as sprinklers and dippers, if you know what I mean. They sang about you and now we're going to talk about you.  Not much different from before, really.  We always talked because we loved you and I guess we still do. Don't worry, I think we all know not to ask questions.  So we'll just talk. 

I walked into the church elevator and pressed the bottom button.  I figured there might be and "H" on it, but it said "Classrooms." Indoctrination centers! Get 'em while they're young!

Potato bugs and little round-headed red-heads from Oklahoma screaming, "My baby, my baby, my baby" in between the projectile vomiting brought on by feelings of abandonment.  It was funny, remember?  Tater Bug, speaking fecally all over the trailer floor while Moms and Dads went out dancing and left her with those strange cousins.  They don't remember it.  It's just me repeating your words and realizing that nobody else at the table had heard those words before.  Funny babies.  Sadly left behind and I remember you.

You stopped laughing and sang to Jesus and he heard you. I thought he was probably trying to tell you something and you probably wouldn't shut up long enough to hear what he was probably telling you. But that was just your way. You knew what he was going to tell you anyway.

Your mom said you disappeared in a foreign land and were being held by the police. You didn't want anyone to find you so you gave them an assumed name. You smeared charcoal on your face and fell and broke your elbow and you could make a stranger laugh till they thought you were an old friend. I bet it won't be long till she forgets your name.

Card Club

Only enough girls for one table at Card Club this month.
It's all right.
The planet is dying, too.
We're right behind you.
Are you gonna tell me you love me one more time?
I'll never hear that enough.