Marian and I are born the same day, two years apart. Combined, our ages equal 110. (now there’s a riddle; cypher me that, oh, agile phalangied one!)
10/10/10 seemed like a shoo-in – we argued for a week prior (does not 35 years of battling for domination prove our love?) and finally stopped the infintesimal (that a word?) cosmic vibration of the scales long enough to enjoy a few Mexican beers and German scnapps on a gorgeous Indian Summer night next to a fire held aloft in an iron bowl over ragged asphalt in a decaying, post-Victorian part of a city, one that owes its past success/excess to exploitation of America’s once rich resources. How fitting that…
As has become our custom (or is it Karma?) one of us became scnockered while the other stood guard against the vagaries of the urban night, a night punctuated by the echoes of notes from the stars above, as though each were a tone from the night watch bell.
A good thing it was, too, for our humble celebration drew the ire of neighbors close at hand, with an accompanying visit from the local law enforcement representatives, who were not enchanted as we, nor did their squadron take kindly to being held at bay by an angry 120 lb woman who held them at bay for some time with only her sharp tongue and slurring wits to protect our meager party.
As has happened so many times before, one of us saved the day by playing the fool, with toe-scuffing jocularity and sardonic grin, disarming a tense situation and sending the enforcers on their way to wield their power in other parts of this ‘city of thieves’.
beer and scnapps
scent the autumn night
tripping on its tongue
never argue with a cop
Thanks, Willie. Your comment reads, more or less, as haibun (or tanbun)! I can see that while I was dancing at the keyboard in the east, your well-oiled tongue was performing similar acrobatics over there in the west. How useful are all the bits protruding.