cafegroundzero

Maybe when I went to take a train to go back to the town where I was born.

This might have been in 1983.

I do not recollect very well.

How is our home in the collective subconscious? How can we share a home in our collective subconscious?

Where is the bathroom?

Where is the kitchen?

Do I have to sleep on the couch, or may I share a bed with you? Why or why not?

RAZ took me in her little white car, to visit a Medicine Man who kept goats on a hill. He was tired of his little goats wandering off and getting eaten by coyotes or by wolves.

My house is not really my house. By this I mean, it is just a temporary resting place. The owner of the title I am not; really, it belongs to my lady friend. Now, I had better behave, or I might find me sleeping in my truck.

Hopefully, not a Bad Ending

Once upon a post-modern time, there lived a little old Italian Man, whose name I do not know. What I do know is he is dead, & hopefully, in Heaven. That is not for me to know, but who knows? Man that fellow human being sure put away many bottles of liquor. Bless his liver. And his heart!

Okay but I did digress. This story is not about the little old man who lived in the house, really, for he eventually sold the house to a not so little Cat Lady, who was actually not bad looking. But I shall not go there.

Well, this Not-so-Little Cat Lady, oh and before I go further, let me assure you, she was not Obese, nor was she Pleasantly Plump, but she was “Just Right.” Anyway, she moved there with her lovely felines, and there the live still, if not always happy, and if not ever after, at least not too high on the hog.

For Night’s Blessing (a Warrior’s Prayer)
by cafegroundzero on March 10. © His majesty the King of Chicago, Emperor of the Planet Earth, el Rey Juanito Pistolas Padilla Santos Coy, All rights reserved
http://allpoetry.com/poem/show/4008099

St Chris & St Joe,
I’m scared,
don’t you know?
of the dangers
about while I’m flying.

St. John & St. Mark,
I’m scared of the dark,
& the monsters that lurk
while I’m lying.

St. Peter & Paul,
come one, please,
come all,
ask from G-d now for me
a protection.

In light or in dark,
in city or park,
guide me
be near me
to fight
the forces that would try & outdo me.

I’m a lover, good Lord,
but aye, yes, can afford
to put up a good fight if I have to.

St. Nick & St. Susan,
by night I’ll be cruising
so find me a way
back to home.

Oh find me a way
and light me, I pray
for the dragons do soar
and now threaten.

I thank ye, my saints
and bid ye o haints
don’t waste yer time haunting
nor wailing.

Oh good glory, God,
bless me & my squad,
as we go on manly business
hearken our prayers,
brush of our nightmares,
& God bring us home to our folk.

Amen.

There are two towns at least that I have seen on maps: one town or village is named Blood. The other one is named Skull.

I don’t know why.

They are in Amish Country.

That is all I really know.

One place has only one road leading to it.

It is near the Wabash or Ohio River.

I had returned to Cary from somewhere, maybe the Loop. The car enthusiasts were holding their weekly summer Wednesday evening car show.

I got to see a DeLaurean (sic) and some other very fine rebuilt or classic cars.

http://www.visitmchenrycounty.com/navigation/events/jul-aug.html

It is the home of abolitionist and former US representative, Underground Railroad “conductor” Owen Lovejoy, brother of martyred Elijiah the journalist of Alton, Illinois.

http://www.lovejoyhomestead.com/

I have been too busy looking for work in McHenry County, for me to take the time to visit even though I am living now in N.I. —nw of Chicago.

Large, brick warehouse. Still functioning. Using older technologies but also some desktop LAN networks.