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Spirit Motel Shuttle Service

From Paul Hogan Sun, 4 May 1997 14:45:48

COPYRIGHT 1997 Paul Hogan

This was originally UNTITLED (FILL IN YOUR OWN)

[ meant to be read outloud for maximim effect, i did so at the library]

.....................

They stare out at the world with eyes shut
They do not see with their eyes any more
Or hear with their ears
They cannot smell
They sit together in the limo - taxi
Arms locked arm in arm
Legs crossed all the same direction
Left or maybe right

They all wear black, or saffron or..
Whatever, it's got to be a uniform
In order not to feel alone
Or rather, in order to feel left alone

Separated from the rest
No longer part of the herd
They are the chosen few
They smile in unison as they think the same thought

This takes practice, so they have practice over and over
Until they just KNOW they are thinking the same thought
For this makes them strong
And protects them from uninitiated outsiders

Smiling, they all simultaneously cross their legs
The other direction
This makes a rustling noise like a snake shedding its skin
(Poor snake, to be so maligned ...)

The sickly looking dark bluish taxi,
Fluorescing like some deep ocean creature
Makes stops
But no one gets off

But more do get on, and sit behind the others
For them the driver, long shimmering robes and
Stovepipe hat,
Gets out of the taxi, opens the door and bows deeply

He makes a sweeping motion with the hat
And ushers the new passengers in with a flourish
The MOONLIGHT glistening off his bare skull face
He shuts them behind taxi door with a barely audible "click".

Getting in, he puts the taxi in gear soundlessly
Just looking briefly back over his boney shoulder
HE grins at his passengers with a crooked smile
His eyes glimmer like two candles far across a room

The passengers all recross there legs simultaneously
And smile with their eyes closed
Each thinking the same thought
And knowing that each other thinks that thought

There is a little sigh that comes from the driver's mouth
Like a cold wind drifting out from a deep dark cave
The sound that the witch woman makes for little children
Ahhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ...............

But they are not AFRAID! [exaggerated]
For some time now they have forgotten THAT feeling and
Only feel a dizzying THRILL
Like the one roller coaster riders get as they approach
The top of the big drop.
Ahhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ...............

They are looking forward SO much to their destination
For they KNOW it will be wonderful, they believe that
They have thought that thought so MANY times since they
Learned it

Since the man with the stove pipe hat and the eyes like
Candles taught them about their special destination
Ages ago
At least it seems like ages ago, NOW
Now that there is nothing else that they need to remember
Ahhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ...............

The driver stops to pick up more passengers and more
It is such a wonderful taxi
For it just grows and grows as if by magic
Getting longer and longer with each new load of passengers
Each new load of about to be satisfied customers
Dressed carefully in the same uniform, just so
As they learned to do from the man in the stove pipe hat
And no longer remember any other way

It is so much easier, all the same way
No socks to match, no clashing shirts with pants or skirt
Just the same outfit, uniformly the same
The right one for the journey and endless more waiting
At the end

Which they are presently headed for
Having picked up the last of the passengers
For this evening anyhow
They recross their legs for the last part of the journey

Ahhhhhhhhhhaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa ...............

The driver leaves the city (or town, or village)
And heads out across the desert
Under what used to be a starry night
With zillions and zillions of stars and their planets
As different from one another as snowflakes
And as many maps in the sky as travelers to look at them

But not tonight. There is no need for star navigation
When you have your eyes closed
And such a trustworthy driver
A chauffeur for all time

Moving quietly across the desert
Towards that destination they have all been promised
The one that they have firmly believe in
Why they can even see it with their eyes closed !

And the driver is heading for it without so much
As parking lights on
For HE sees IT off in the distance
The faint blue glow shimmering over the dark horizon.

And his candle flame eyes glow stronger and he cackles
As he puts the long stretch taxi into high gear
And tears off across the desert of darkness
For the blue light is actually a long way off...

Light years in fact no one has ever found their way back
Once aboard the blue taxi
Which is why HE is so dedicated to this job
The passengers are never ending almost
And particularly in these times of the magic millennium

But the taxi moves VERY fast and they will all be there
Soon enough and longer than they can IMAGINE
That quibbling mental function
No longer being necessary to the passengers

The blue glow grows closer and stronger over the pitch black
Desert horizon...Soon they will arrive at the promised place
Where no has to worry about anything any more
Or be afraid to be different or feel lonely and discontented

The driver pushes "the pedal to the metal "
The huge long powerful taxi makes the last millions
Of miles in just seconds

Up ahead one can see ( if one could see )
Scant details looming up under the basking
Light of a mammoth blue neon sign hanging down from some
Invisible support as steady as an anchor buried in the sand.

Windless, glowing hard and steady, lighting up what
Appears to be (to those that see) some sort of enormous
Low stone building with no windows only a gigantic iron door
That rolls up like a garage door and in fact has opened
To receive its new occupants
And now those that could see would make out the blue neon
SIGN Clearly now hanging above the door:
WELCOME TO THE SPIRIT MOTEL -- ALWAYS A VACANCY

The driver gets out
His candle eyes glowing as bright as bonfires now
For this is his favorite part of the job
The delivery of his passengers
And the collection of their fares.

end

With special thanks to Johnny Moses for the " Ahhhhaaaa....", and to Dennis Pryor for encouraging me to write this poem.

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