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STREETS
I've found myself in an unfamiliar land...
I look out over my left shoulder, then across, over my right. I'm in a field garnished with hills. A bright blue sky above filled with wondrous white clouds. The sun shining in between them. Everything is softly glowing as if it were made of pure light. In the distance, at the end of a long dirt road carved out by old tire tracks, I spot a red barn over a hill. I jog through rows of wheat to get a better view of the barn. I get down to the dirt road and squint towards the red building. I hear an echoey tune coming the end of the road. I begin jogging towards the music, and am able to make out some of the words...
"...that's the way....she said.."
Closer and closer I get. The music grows louder.
The closer I get, the louder it grows!
I start jogging faster and faster!
The music louder and louder!
"...any way you want..."
I'm running!
Running until.. !
My eyes pop open and I take a quick breath. I come to consciousness, the sun peering through my bedroom window blinds. I reach over to my alarm clock set to Journey's "Any Way You Want It", and give it a good smack ending it's '80s wake up call. Ah, a dream. I let out the breath and fall in to silence.
I lay in bed under a fortress of blankets, shielded from the real world. It's warm and I hope the moment never ends.
.
..
...
....
.....
!
"...Pancakes!!!......Pancakes, pancakes, paaaancaaaaakes!!!"
Aaaaaaand here come my kids, crawling up the stairs. A wistful smile comes across my face. I know my moment will soon be over and that it's my turn to cook breakfast today.
"Morning, guys. What could you possibly want for breakfast today?", I ask.
With inflective tones and almost in sync they reply,
"Pancakes!!"
They jump on the bed and eventually drag me out and down to the bottom of the stairs, hanging on to my arms and legs, the whole time chanting "Pancakes! Pancakes! Pancakes!"
Groggily, I get out the frying pan, measuring cups, and a mixing bowl. I turn to the fridge behind me, open the door, and reach for where the milk would be if I had any.
"..fuck.", I say to myself quietly so as the kids don't hear.
"Honey...the kids want pancakes, we're outta milk, I'll be right back."
I slide your shoes on, grab a coat, and step outside. The air is brisk, but refreshing so I take a deep breath, exhale (I smile because I can see it), and start my walk to the corner store.
It's Sunday morning and most mafiosi are spending it with their families, resting before a fresh week of crime. I like the sound of the bottom of my shoes on the sidewalk.
I find a good kicking stone after a couple blocks to accompany my stroll. I keep it going for a few straight kicks until I accidentally knock it off course in to the side of a brick building. It ricochets a short distance back towards the center of the sidewalk, spins a bit, then rests motionless.
I walk over to reclaim my stone and commence kicking. Looking down at my shoes, I catch something from the corner of my eye. I look up at the brick building that I've walked by a thousand times before, but this time, I see something different:
FOR RENT
I think to myself:
"Huh, that's new. What was here before? What will it be?"
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