Jupiterandotherthings

My Blog has no cohesive theme, rather, it is divided into four basic groups: art that moves me, girls I would like to do things to, things that make me laugh and finally, things related to Harry Potter and or Star Wars. Enjoy.

We Came Outside Dressed In Our Finest

   I witnessed it, the clash of two generations. The brilliant beaming lights of our fathers snuffed out with one fatal, blinding-white blow to the core of it all.

   You were there, belligerent and adorned in stylish clothing your mother couldn’t afford. She, with her hands cracked, bones frigid and weak. You were there, landing planes with your million dollar smile. You were there.

   I witnessed the beheading of one zeitgeist, only to see a two-headed beast take its place. Jaws gnashing, spouting lies in the shapes of flowers and dollar signs. Proverbial statements flashing on banners and billboards like advertisements from God.

   You were there, smelling of thunder storms and clouds, your skin milky smooth, fragile, infectious. Your mother was gone, dead and forgotten. She’d emptied her pocket book, hoping to fill it with the murky bliss of a dream. In the end she’d only filled her hands with blood.

   There was something aromatic and provocative about that night, when the skies caught fire and the oceans rose up. The water boiled, the sweetness in the air palpable and brilliant, like the downwind scent of cemetery flowers. Your hairs stood tall on gooseflesh, and I touched you there at the foot of the waves, the fire enveloping us, kissing at our bare toes.

   I could taste sugar on your lips when I kissed away the blood and promised a better tomorrow.

   The waters receded. Our mothers and fathers vanished into the depths of it all. And so again, we came outside, dressed in our finest, watching it spiral towards us, knowing it to be our best and only hope.

   We clasped our hands. We took our collective deep breaths. We wished. We hoped. We prayed. We begged.

   And there, in the white light of our better tomorrow, we danced. A thousand smiling faces, the youth torn from our bones, but the dreams of our children moving feverishly in our eyes, we danced until the fires undressed us, we danced until our eyes saw only smoke, until our lungs took in only fluid. We danced until the lights went out.

And then we slept.

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    When Richard Andalora writes something,
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