Saturday, March 26, 2011

Umbrellas Unopent in Tempests, Part III

Itwethey looks (quickly and yet slowly: a sudden glance but the registered brief image burns Itwethey’s memory to remain concentrated therein for 356.323X longer than the glance itself) upon guest, so humble, as guests often are, unsure of entry, though sure entry is desired. A pleasing smile, hoping to please, an entry entered into Itwethey’s memoric images, the sun burning brightly behind.

Itwethey returns guest’s smile. To guest’s smile, Itwethey’s smile says, “welcome.” The rest of the guest, against the burning backdrop of the sun, is silhouette: Itwethey cannot distinguish a single feature. The silhouette indicates neither great height or weight—but though dark and fuzzy (except for the bright, pleasing smile) and a colorful penumbra against that—and then the leaping sun all over everything else—Itwethey is assured any misplaced confidence in guest’s good intentions are to be poetic, or failing that, will provide a narrative to be used later…In a joke, perhaps.

Itwethey is aware the stoop is insecure—it may even be propped without being nailed, against the front of the house. Itwethey remembers something about being distracted many days in effort to determine a curvature of the rises that he may not have had time to fully think out how best to make home and stoop into a unity. The curvature was important; getting in and out of the house was the afterthought. Getting in and out of the house hadn't been a problem, either. That’d been at least two years ago that Itwethey had been coming in and out of home, going up and down stoop, without a crisis, no problem: guest wouldn’t be smiling brightly if crisis loomed,or stoop were teetering, either.

With that happy reassuring thought, Itwethey beckons guest off stoop onto threshold where Itwethey reaches out bare bear hug and hearty slaps for the back de la guest. Sheer animal barbarity sweating stinking force of Itwethey’s body, including breath coming from a lifetime of shit-eating is at this moment the one thing guest has to latch onto. Guest surges into Itwethey’s welcome, an ocean of sun, a sun ocean welcoming the welcome, letting loose tides, pirouettes, and forsaking all of that which hindered welcome just moments before ( guises? Disguises?).


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