03-31-2008, 10:22 PM
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April 1st.
Oh, nothing made sense these days. Hazy chaos, too much right and just as much wrong, it was a state of oblivion that Poe knew well, and carried herself heedlessly upon, dancing down the street in a dress from another time and place, and a bottle of wine just the same. A treasure, a fortune both of them, worth and meaningless without a context beyond this strange, lost little girl's mind.
Now, now, she wasn't so little anymore, was she? Three years to the day, this Fool's birth-Day, and despite her three years to tell her to do the contrary--take the other fork path, look both ways-- she moved like the blindfolded man on the tarot card she had been dealt once upon a time. She did it all with eyes wide open though, knowing and willing the cliff that loomed under the horizon, a smile painted across her muzzle. She had spent every April Fool's Day passed uncertain if she would live another year, a week, a night. It made for a reflection so unusually dramatic in the greater context of her life, it was laughable--and would have been far more so if she possessed the knowledge that this birthday, the first of freedom and life, was in fact the real beginning of a countdown from years to months before her death.
Oh, what an April's Fool.
The wine sloshed inside of its green glass bottle, licking up and dribbling down Poe's wrist from time to time to drip onto and blend into the deep red saloon dress that she wore, tailored to her peculiar figure. Quick-quick-slow, she dancing down the snow-patched streets that she knew so well, absorbed by wine and song, following the practiced steps that kept her from lingering in the imprints of what was not there. Friends, family, company, a girl, a boy, a ghost. Tonight was about what was to come. Wishes and moonlight.
Oh, nothing made sense these days. Hazy chaos, too much right and just as much wrong, it was a state of oblivion that Poe knew well, and carried herself heedlessly upon, dancing down the street in a dress from another time and place, and a bottle of wine just the same. A treasure, a fortune both of them, worth and meaningless without a context beyond this strange, lost little girl's mind.
Now, now, she wasn't so little anymore, was she? Three years to the day, this Fool's birth-Day, and despite her three years to tell her to do the contrary--take the other fork path, look both ways-- she moved like the blindfolded man on the tarot card she had been dealt once upon a time. She did it all with eyes wide open though, knowing and willing the cliff that loomed under the horizon, a smile painted across her muzzle. She had spent every April Fool's Day passed uncertain if she would live another year, a week, a night. It made for a reflection so unusually dramatic in the greater context of her life, it was laughable--and would have been far more so if she possessed the knowledge that this birthday, the first of freedom and life, was in fact the real beginning of a countdown from years to months before her death.
Oh, what an April's Fool.
The wine sloshed inside of its green glass bottle, licking up and dribbling down Poe's wrist from time to time to drip onto and blend into the deep red saloon dress that she wore, tailored to her peculiar figure. Quick-quick-slow, she dancing down the snow-patched streets that she knew so well, absorbed by wine and song, following the practiced steps that kept her from lingering in the imprints of what was not there. Friends, family, company, a girl, a boy, a ghost. Tonight was about what was to come. Wishes and moonlight.