Proud Practitioners

"It's Lucid, she's back. I'm out of here! Fuck that!"

Immediate politeness is to swoon thine rival for another glimpse. I am delighted to be mistaken however my territorial appeal is an aerial view of vastness yet to be explored. My assumption arises from experiencing the churn of grizzly motorized street bikes, fiber glass explosions, trails of oiled slick, and rotating expenditures. This is another man's treasure; I desire worth.

"What the fuck are you doing here? We thought you put it aside for her!"

"For who?"

"Wait, who the fuck are you?!"

"You want to find out?"

This child belongs to the air, I lift her towards the stars, she will be eternally ours, her size doth please me beyond any able venture I feel rewarding, my Beau is a precious man, we contribute to that which we keep, these curls reflect upon me, Neptune's teary sadness is the serenity of her eyes, regal contemplation curves her cheek bones, my broken boy heals for her nose, she seems to be a tad rebellious of my self indulgence at this moment however this being in my arms belongs solely to us, if divinity intervenes I will rage astronomical war.

"I will get you for this."

"She spoke her first words!"

There is a sliding pivoting plate of madness my left shin balances, the other smothers a strained rubbery gentleman; whomever invented this platform is demented genius. Fluid strikes my right shoulder, bravado motivates an impulsive forearm curdling a bleeding set of porcupine bristles, the hedgehog rolls into a grooved sledge. I forget where I am; my Beau is wearing red.

"What did she say?"

"Say it again my dearest."

"Is he yours Madam?"

"She speaks well."

"You both will be my juncture."

"She has dimples like me!"

"Her ears wiggle like mine do!"

"When your plea of infatuation desists I will be victorious."

"I'm going to touch her nose."

"Wait until she is done moving her mouth."

"You both realize it is physically impossible for me to stay a measurement for your satisfaction."

"I do hope she finishes soon."

Wilder than a blazing bush conversing with a desert nomad, turntable grinding black records of fuming philanthropy gasp streaking negligence across a graphite rooftop while I expose an assortment of spring tensioned spikes hurling out of templates welded from body armor. Each piece of dull throttled elemental misery bears a letter for recognition.

"She calls you Amethyst."

"Memoir flesh of her likeness."

"We can see that."

"I want this area."

"You sure about that?"

"What else do I need to do?"

"Double back flip, spinning inverse jump kick, uppercut cycle, finish it off with a triple axle thrust on your right toe."

"She does that shit?"

"Fuck yeah!"

My dad is glowing magnetic poles of collaboration for a panther and a wolf to exchange kisses while a tuft of crow sheen surprises thermal underwear with static electricity; she is physically debating this garment. Avitas peacefully cooperates tucked inside polyurethane reinforced clothing much quicker than anticipated.

"What do you call it when you do that?"

"I'm a fucking grandma!"

"Grandma....."

"Yeah what's up?"

"What are they doing?"

"Licking."

"I understand what that word means but the interaction is something else."

"Kissing."

"Got it."

I must of been nervous anticipation seen through her crystal ball. Upon initial impression I preferred the slightest idea over my spectator's response. Performance is not a quality I exude when cued; only when least expected freedom becomes possession.

"Tell me a tale."

"Rolf....."

"I don't want to tell her about that or that or that....."

"What kind of tale?"

"I shan't accept fallacy."

"Grandpa knows lots of stories."

"Grandma does too."

Mighty's face is curious for us to behold; this emotion we must discover upon closer examination. We walk towards him thoughtlessly. Zoom lifts his foot, his hand is firm for my crooked elbow, I slip into a soft sink and my twin follows.

"Tastes like peanuts."

"I do enjoy the flavor."

"Yeah it's a hell of a lot of peanut butter. Six feet of it. See you guys later."

Sliced flour puffs shaped into balls of gooey fingers invites us to a table.

"I made peanut butter sandwiches for everyone."

"Oh."

"I don't think we're doing this correctly."

"I can be a grandma."

"I'm fine with the grandpa thing. I'm used to it by now. She says it, I answer."

Cordelia cordially brings me three glasses of cool water, fresh sashimi in the shape of a snake, my overcoat is folded neatly into a square, the rose sconce votive is a warm pink, stereophonic lounge gently touches my ears, a young lady enclosing her cusp of tame knuckles exposes tight lips; impermanence creates the will of man.

"I will get you for this."

"Would you like anything else?"

"You cannot outlive us."

"Perhaps some tea?"

"We will always grace your actions."

"A bit of honey will soothe."

"Our essence is you; there is no escape from us."

"I will prepare your bed for rest."

Grandma and Grandpa sleep side by side upon an exaggeratively upholstered length of furniture; a child marches inside their dreams. Both mumble profusely while she interprets this state to be unconscious dreariness which she similes the bizarre fog found amongst dewing dandelions.

"Where did you go?"

"Well....."

"Which one am I again?"

"You're both wearing black."

"Yes."

"I should write it down."

"Hhhmmm......"

"How do we get her to say it?"

"Papa....."

"I don't know which one I am."

"I feel as though it matches my persona."

"Okay you are Papa."

"Mama....."

"That's me."