Some homes just look creepy and this large boarded up beauty is no exception. Found in rural northern Colorado and enhanced by wicked shadows, this house says do not enter.
In addition to Pumpkin’s putty colored nose, she has a tongue that sometimes does not fit in her mouth. This, of course, happens after she has exerted herself and is panting. We walk 1.1 mile(s) to a neighborhood park that does not allow dogs. That being the case, when we do go in we don’t have to worry about other dogs. Call me contrary. In truth there are no other people either. Today I counted how many times she pees on this walk and it was 6. No, she is not diabetic, just busy marking her turf. Silly putty nosed Pumpkin.
Another beauty laying low in the junkyard. Many of us no doubt did have a father who drove a Cadillac. My father drove an Olds, but then he used to sell them and always drove something brand new. Before that he sold Fords for a bit and drove an Edsel for a time. Man that was one ugly car, but not this Caddy, which ruled the day, and lit up the night.
As if in eternal rest, a pastel shell of a car sits in a Colorado junkyard with a seemingly endless field behind it. Perhaps this beauty looks so comfortable because it came from the open plains, where it carried a happy and loving family on many adventures. Its work long since completed, it sits and reflects, aging with grace and beauty.
This is the story of what I found a few days ago when I went into my basement to look for something located close to where I store my paint cans and buckets. This is what I saw…Now what in the hell is that I wondered and upon closer examination saw this….
Apparently a can without a cap had some leakage and morphed into an alien from outer space, or at least looks like what I always thought they might look like. You can still see the spray nozzle that was consumed to create bone and structure…
This head is as hard as a….head, and must have formed some time ago. Note the brain which is partially outside the skull. So far it has not chosen to communicate with me, even though I find myself sending it messages….including “please don’t hurt me.”
© 2012 Michael Fiveson
I can smell its wrath
feel it on my skin
even hear it
as it moves closer
my favorite season
sad enough to cry leaves
overcome by time
and a tired sun
so I wait
if I can hide