Xepera, xeper, Xeperu

"I have Come Into Being, and by the Process of my Coming In to Being, the Process of Coming Into Being Is Established."

Check please...

Check please...

The waitress's stare lingered long after she slid the check towards me and said: "It's been a pleasure." 

I could see the back wall of her eyes. There was a dim fire in there seeking passage.  Lighting up the back of the cave wall there was a dim fire seeking passage and providing a clue to a way out.  Or is it a way in?  I can never remember if I am trying to get out or in.  I want in. I want out. I want more caramel on my cheesecake and a top-off of iced tea. 

I just remembered I have a garden to take a stroll in. I have a date with a pretty green-eyed girl ghost and she's got another apple for me, the water lilies are outrageous, and the bench beneath the White Willow tree is calling my name.  I ended up adding an impromptu piece to the agenda and followed a Hummingbird Hawk Moth around for a while.  It sang praise of the afterlife. That it's hardly a tightrope walk and if you try hard enough, you can body surf the temporal slipstream right into the throat of Leviathan's laughter. Which oddly sounds like hearing someone biting into an apple through an amplifier with the reverb knob on max. I wonder why it's scales alternate from searing heat to super-cooled. 

Welders masks only make great shades if you're closer to the sun or any star for that matter.  Just be sure to eat your popsicle beforehand.  Mine evaporated before I could blink again.   I couldn't tell you how many times I forgot to wear a belt to Apophenia's cocktail party.  She points it out every time. And every time I nod and smile with slight shame while she smirks at my lapse in indiscretion and tops off my glass.  Then again she was never one for planning either.  That's just her nature. But she throws great parties. A gracious host with devilish debonair and a smile that could knock the great dragon off his perch atop an old grain silo. Her plaid pencil skirt and diamond cape is stunning.  Love runs towards love like schoolboys from their books. Back to school with heavy looks.

Cervantes and Ahura Mazda once had to share a desk while in class. Etching angry but flirty notes to each other in cuneiform with an ice pick.   I wonder if they ever finished their conversation.  It'd be funny as hell if they showed up to this party right now. I'd stalk both of them like a shadow until I got more questions from the answers.  Half the time that's all it really is. Another question. Another step down the rabbit hole, the light behind you decreasing and the light in front of you never changing its distance nor brilliance.  It's just there to remind me of something that's permanently on the tip of my tongue.   I'm reminded of the message whispered to me from the data flow of the Trapezoid in Times Square- "Help stand into the stinky sweet wind.  Never mind the birds and blow me a kiss." 

I slid the signed check back to the waitress, thanked her, and left.  Time isn't going to kill itself now is it?

What did you forget?

What did you forget?