a short story

 Hair

... an autobiographical short fiction

It had been an instant pouring; 'twas one that was graceful.  As all good pours can be (each one is, another way by which of it to think)

Out of grace I'm made.  To eternity back I shall go.  An instant scoop and a night of hoop, rolling by the state of the artwork, creating sometimes, often sideways, most slanted, well-on.

That is how my life began and always is.

From Here to Nashville I Make My Stand.  That is the way this all goes.  From Here to Kansas; Heart of Throne; From Here to Mexico; Neighbor-Land; From Here to Yesterday; All-God's Plan.

All is all right, as into this heart I am kindly tossed as in the always already the light of all my days.  All my time is just light.  All is light for me.  All is light.  Is all I see.  Into this heart I'm kindly tossed.  Like a salad twisted and satiated with Balsamic Vinaigrette upon a field of lettuce, along with some nice slices of guacamole, some mango, some crispy Chinese water chestnuts, onions and scallions, good croutons and a nice appetite.  That would probably, while I'd say, likely it'd be the best salad she has yet had.

Now I know that you know.  I have no doubt that you know.  That is the way this will always come.

Back To Sandwiches in New York; To The Braves in Atlanta;

That is the way this always come, from here to the other side of the Earth is where I'm from.  That is the way the lights are all on.

This is the sounds of my wonderous magic wand;

That is the way the lights turn up and on.

--

--

That is the shell of the wonderous mad frame.  That is that, without any name.  That is magic.  That is extra caliber.  That is put it on delightful.

That is: Here Down to Dallas.  To The Cowboys In The Wild.   Wild West Singing A Song.   That's the way I want it all on.

That is the sign above my head.  My crown of perfection.

One 'twas a virgin, and upon which, finely wed.  That is the right way; all has once been done.

Spell is divinity to show you where I'm from.

That was a joke, of course all things are me.  I am to where I am going.  I am an Chinese-Grecian-American life by the sea.  'Specially the Mediterranean.

More than just remembering the long, lost New Year.  That is the way from Christmas to there.  Easter without a question may finely be the best holiday of all.  Certainly might be, it was the day He took His life of the grave.

--

--

That is the way this all has become.  That is the soundwave.  High and vibrant, rainbow-tilted particles.

This is carbon, a monad of truth.  This is the way to Earth from a higher apparatus.  This is the way I do it for all my good friends.

This is the way I keep making sense.  This is the way to here and from there.

The Right Way to Time; The Perfect Way To Time Square.

This is the heart.  I'll keep it like a dolphin.

Sing some, make some caliber, get some people hooked.  Write some good hooks, chill with good shape, hang out with the shapes, the ways of the wave (sometimes right it out) and have fun writing good music well, maybe get some crowds some time; I'm a poet either way and who could tell but me but I'm hooked, either-way, show and tell or live and artwork sizes up somehow; I'll write the good poems and God might as well check them out.  Anyway way I have it, I've been chillin' with him somehow.

Short Story by ben aperitif