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Literary pastiche: "Specs in the Eyes of Seeing"

By JERRY VILHOTTI

The ghost of Poe walked Old Fordham Village with all his demons like some of the ones Johnny would carry with him: the man whose head was cut off standing on the stoop in the court yard on certain midnights or so his sister Tina of the Troy's husband Al told him, Black Jack who ate little blond curly-haired boys who always smiled so his brothers Leny One N and Tommy Tom Tom told him, trucks that took the lives of young boys like Johnny's five year old friend with whom he stayed all the time the huge tire was drinking the little boy away to frozen eyes.

"Johnnnnnnnnnny! Johnnnnnnnnny! Waaaaaaaana diiiiiiiiieee!" his older brother Tom crooned from the opposite sidewalk - way across the big street - as he pretended to be eating something inside the palms of his hands.

Johnny tried to ignore him; to look away from his hands possibly hiding candies. No way would he cross the mighty Fordham Road with its yellow cobble stones upon which Poe had walked while being chased by his inner demons. He would not attempt to beat trailer truck wheels that were as big as cars. He would not acknowledge Tom's frantic waves and crazy grins.

"Johnnnnnnnnny!" Tom shouted as he sniffed into his hand that was against his chest preventing a falling of nothing.

Continuing to walk on, Johnny could hear his favorite war song coming from an opened window about caissons rolling along. A war to stop the next World Order and joined others to defeat dictators but when the threat of the other giant was swallowed up by money the caissons began rolling over innocence like a bully beating up the weaker, younger and helpless.

A trailer truck roared by going down One hundred and eighty-ninth street; willing to destroy life for an extra dollar after the great dying hunger days of the Great Depression taught many to fear hunger and eventually to fear fear itself.

The behemoth trucks vehemently strove to find short cuts through the neighborhood streets until one night after the boy Johnny's age would be smashed to death like a Caliban upon a Setebos lying in a pool of himself dying ... dying ... dead before the sun fell from the sky and that's when the people came out led by Johnny's father to stop all trucks from eating any more children and from that day on no more trucks would invade their streets.

"Johnnnnnnnnny!!" Tom yelled. Once again trying hard to get the boy with curly golden hair to swim across the street but instead the boy stayed on the sidewalk where seldom cars drove upon and waved at Tom; making eleven year old Tom begin a crying that seemed it would never stop like the sirens that blared telling them nazi planes were coming to bomb little New York City Children ....

Little Leny one n, hovered beneath his mother, looming in the night, a ship of iron willed specters. "What are doing Leny One N?" Her voice came through the cracks on his wall. The twelve year old broke his penis off ....

High above the ground where King Kong could see parts of four states just before he would plummet to his death after trying to give humanity a cure for its soiled soul that harbored the gods of greed, self-hate and indifference

Byrom Hoover Bush's next photography subject was a lady who lived on the third floor and hung out in the hallways for any unfaithful husband who would condemn others who would get caught by vigil wives shouting that God should cut off all the one-eyed penises that looked for comfort in a wet moist hole.

Disgruntled that her son Deo, whom she named after the great Mozart, and would learn to speak Dante's Tuscany dialect while in prison having killed a man over a woman who made Puttanesca gravy for hungry husbands returning from a hard days work for the padrone in a feudal system that would be almost over thrown during the Eighteen forties forever to be know as the "Forty Eight" when the meek tried to inherit the earth only to be slaughtered in the streets by all the kings' armies, was late in picking her up at her daughter's but taking the opportunity to do her "things" on her son-in-law - a nemesis of hers since the day he began giving her unmarried daughter children.

Tommy Tom Tom began speaking to his headlights that were showing him the way. He sang a few lines from a Hank Williams' song about seeing the light though darkness was enveloping his eyes to stares just before he would be taken to Kafka's House for very tense people near Northshredder New York adjacent to the Endrun River full of floating dying fish .... END 1-12-06

Copyright 2006 JERRY VILHOTTI

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