|I am walking
the bridge with a guide who sooth(es) wordbending,
who conjoins the wit of (wo)man.
Duplicitous is he as am I--happy/sad, but not with a polarizing
Janus: lyrical bitter.
We hup, hup, hup across and over the river--left, left,
right, left. He, a Veteran, is looking up. Me, a would-be
soldier, looking down at our feet. His feet are sandled
and unchained; mine, steel-toed and bootstrapped.
He is talking (teaching); I am chewing gum (listening)
to his converse whistle in the wind: he gusting about Who
I am going to meet.
"A visualization of the spirit. A... a... a... person
of the Street."
We arrive on Who's side and stroll up to Who's
house. The Veteran wraps on the door, then knocks a few
more times. He waits several seconds, then pounds pressingly
to emphasize our arrival. He steps away from the door, down
from the stoop. Up to the window he shouts, "We're
"You know," he exclaimed. "We made arrangements."
"What? You know we're closed on Mondays. All right
already. No need to rush. I'm coming."
Five minutes later, the door opens. We are greeted and
"I live upstairs and keep watch of the house. This
is where Who did this. This is where Who did
that," she blasé blasé blahed. Then she
announced, "We're going to see where Who slept,
wept... and died.
"Who's bedroom," the Vet understated
with a chuckle unintentionally.
The Keeper requested that I lie down on the bed.
"Do as your told," commanded the Vet.
"Okay," I gnashed.
"Give me your gum."
The Veteran, seeing my expression and reading my language,
advised me to comply.
'What about the boots," I inquired.
"No need," she said pointedly.
"If you say so," I huffed, wondering where my
As I lay, I closed my eyes. When I opened, looking up,
I saw four eyes glistening back at me, coupled with a wide-toothed
smile. Panicked, I blinked. Then a third set appeared: beaming
eyes and a bearded smile guffawing. My throat constricted.
"Oh, Poe is me! I've been seized," I eeeked
as I massaged my throat. "Get me out of here."
"Don't forget your gum," chortled the Keeper.
The Veteran and I (and Who?)--we returned and made
our way to the theater, but not before heading up the street
to purchase a sandwich, chips and soda for lunch. After
which, I was given instructions on how to manage the theater.
NOTE: A valiant Battle-axe called and told me to
(de-)scribe this Bump on the Log, to write
this passage of their significance--of myself.