My impressive imagination


As we continued to follow each other in step, within the margins of two steel rails permanently
fastened to their mighty timber crossties, a thought entered my mind. What if I were to somehow
band together some of the best tree carvers in the state and create an arborglyph in the greenbelt?
Nothing profane as to exact wrath from the people, but rather, exquisite works of art!



It didn't take long for me to get distracted and lose interest.

Looking up over the wooded trench where we walked lazily, I could see the light of
an old parking garage. No one said a word. To remain in the gully was our choosing.
At least until we arrived at our predetermined destination. That narrow canal of
earth and steel which had been carved by man's efficiency, carried our movements.
Beneath the overground where the mechanical monsters roll, we journeyed on like
mental cripples, ever cautious of the wind that could turn the tide of fate against us.



Around us now, were the most exotic of all tree demons; the staghorn sumac.
None of which had more prominent features or were as greatly admired in this
realm. They were the ones who seemed to know the most about what was going
on here. They were also the most clever and appeared to be the sharpest. Like
some odd kind of pet, they stood watching and scrutinizing us with intrinsic
faces, shrouded by an ever keen sense of logic. Of course, you had to be
in the land of the shadow dwellers to see them!

How I wish I could have brought one home! Just to study and take notes, and try
to comprehend. To seize the opportune moment when reality sets in, and all lines
of communication falter. Then I might be able to catch it! But for now, I am only
grasping at straws. It really seemed as though they belonged in the land of mist
and fog, with the laughing mushrooms and the dancing frogs! What causes me to
see them? How can I define their expressions? Maybe that is how The Fool on
the Hill perceives us. Yet something was missing in the mass confusion which
had abounded in the plains of reason. I walked into a field of ill regard, when
soon it began to dawn on me. . . There's just too many of them out there panning.

I was accoladed in a forest of wonder
I became a knight who graced the earth
I was revered by all I had imagined
I made peace with a world I long hated

After the coronation, I began to think of my parents and their constant nagging.
All I ever heard upon moving here was "hurry up, let's go. I want you in the
house early tonight! You're going to be late for school!" All of a sudden, it was
like she had come out of a coma, and for the next seven years, she and her new
husband would make it their business to torture me, day in and day out. It was
almost like they had found out about the affair. Parents only hear what they wish
to hear, or they rebuke you. If itis not pleasing to their ears, it is not permissible,
and they dispel you as a fool. Make no mistake, we are all fools on occasion
indeed but even fools need respect and honor if they wish to succeed and not
continue being fools. So we look up to our peers, and they admire us for
our foolishness. Hence, you are no longer a fool but impressive!

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We were now on the tracks and saw the lights of Huguenot looming, in the distance. Upon
hearing a strange noise, John immediately stopped. "Listen Charles," he said apprehensively!
His eyes denoting a connotation of fear. Like a Roman soldier, I stood at attention and surveyed
the area for any sign of disturbance. That look of death he bore signaled impending misfortune,
and so my armor was my shield! A most aggressive noise could be heard coming from the left side
of the tracks up ahead near an enclave of slippery elm trees. It was not an ordinary sound but rather,
a very distinct sound. What were they chopping, I thought? People? Trees? Were they lumberjacks?
Kids? I then waited patiently for another aural response, which confirmed my earliest belief; duly noted.

Aside from the odd chopping noise, there was now also growling. Could it be a pack of wild dogs?



There have been rumors to that effect circulating for some time now, but many rumors
that I have heard can simply not be proven. For example, the rumor that has spread across
Staten Island like a Category 9 wildfire since the early seventies. At one point in time,
someone decided to say that if you walk along the train tracks and a conductor sees you,
you stand a good chance of being shot with a salt gun. No, I am not making this up, but
I think John and Paul might have. They seem to be the only ones who can attest to such an
allegation. During the day, most kids who walk the tracks with you will scamper to hide
behind trees, and tell you to run or you might be injured by the salt gun. Never once have
I ran, but walked off to the side and waited for the train to pass. And never once has my
skin burned from the sting of an old salt gun. Some day I would like to see one, if they
really do exist, and someone out there is able to prove it!

The growling sound was becoming more pronounced, and so I told John it had to be a
rabid dog. Pete told me to stop making shit up, but I could see by the look in his eyes,
the degree of his concern. Believe me when I tell you that anger mixed with fear can
have deadly results. If there should be a mad-dog in the area, believe me when I say
that we are all in some very serious trouble, but that would hardly explain the chopping.



People were there! Bad people doing very bad things. I then heard what sounded like an axe
to a skull behind a muffled cry. My mind was running circles around me, and I could come to
no immediate conclusion. My first impulse was to start running, but I knew the animal would
take to me like a jaguar to a tired gazelle come evening, and so we went with John's idea,
which was, in fact, plan two.

Since we were overcome by fear, we had no choice but to take a detour through the densely
populated woods. Pete was ahead of us again as usual and in no-speaking mode. "Look at Pete"
said John, aghast and out of breath. What about him? I asked. "Look how far ahead of us he is!
He doesn't care about us. He's not our friend." Only your mother and father, I said, not wanting
to talk. "I know right," he exclaimed in awe! As if he had just grasped something he never before
knew. "I should be honoring my parents like Chen next door, Instead, I treat my parents like crap.
My mother says one thing, and I immediately go and do something else! Why am I like this Charlie?
What's wrong with me?" I thought about the questions and realized that instead of facilitating life's
woes, the drug had, in fact, turned everything around to make everything worse than it was before
we even started. I had no answer. So now rather than speak, I could say nothing at all. It is so true.
A good parent only wants what is best for his or her child, but because of our foolish pride, we
become insensitive. Now in the hour of our discontent, we could truly see the error of our ways.
I was suddenly overwhelmed by an intense feeling of sorrow, for I finally understood where my
parents were coming from. In that moment of complete and utter awareness, I was beside myself,
as I knew wholeheartedly what they were trying so hard to do for me.

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Sure they could put you down and hurt your pride, I said. Or lash out and strike you!
A deep wound. They didn't yell at us and make us go to school because they wanted
us to suffer, or because it made them feel any better. They did it because we're part
of them. We are part of their flesh, and they want us to do better than they did!
Even if we don't want any part of it. Don't you get it now?



I then thought of them wanting to send me away to college and how I rebuked it.
Now I was depressed over that.

Only now was I finally able to put into place, the whole missing link to the puzzle, and it's not
that I hadn't seen it before. It was simply because pride had fallen from me, and I wanted to be
loved by God. I then said, God loves us, and we're doing everything in our power to reverse it.
John then offered solace to stand in prayer. It was a totally unfeigned prayer, straight from the heart.
We prayed together, but wept alone and in my quest to find peace, I found myself. I then looked
up toward the stars, where God shined his love down upon me in the reverent face of the moon.

We then continued our journey onward.

Pete traipsed in a desultory manner as he led us through a dark trail.
Veering to the left, we came out on the tracks again.

Preparing to relieve myself, I found the phragmites at this part of the tracks to be swaying oddly.
They were blowing back slightly yet they were unchanged! There was no return to the normal
position!!! They were falling, yet they hadn't moved at all. They were perfectly still, and yet they
were totally moving! I was completely mesmerized by this action, though my mind could not
fathom how this process worked! My brain had received the data, but somewhere along the way
a percentage of it was being lost. The one percent that could solve the equation. Or was it that
one percent which was controlling that data? This I could not figure out either!

As I unzipped my fly and removed my flaccid organ from my zipper, I noticed it was the only
thing that appeared to be functioning normally. After relieving myself, I returned it to the left side
of my pants. From here I made a beeline to the tracks and began walking hastily. I had to catch
up to those buggers who left me behind at my own request!

I was no longer afraid of the darkness for the darkness was now my friend. With a partial
moon in the sky, and only one course of action to follow, it wasn't long before I caught
up to them. As we approached the Huguenot train station, we came to a decision that we
should pay Richie Boy a visit. And so we climbed a small thin yellow ladder which would
guide us up onto the station's platform. It was from there, we ascended the concrete
and steel lined staircase, which led us out into the street.

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Reviews for chapter 26

Coleen Weiner - I like the way simple sentences are transformed into works of art without even trying!
I think you have to be born with it. This is not something you can easily learn.

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PG 125) Tree embryo

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PG 127) Obey - Lotus ornament by Shepard Fairey