by Payj Gibbons
I fell asleep in Richard Brautigan's "In Watermelon Sugar". This is what happened.
| You were there. You were all there. You and you and you and you and you. And him and her and the herhim, too.|
Where everything we knew was done in baby summer squash. Yes, it was. We took the juices and guts from the squash, cooked them and boiled them down until they were a malleable thing that we formed into whatever needed forming. Bricks and boards for houses. Wheels and doors and things of our lives. (Very much like "In Watermelon Sugar". But we were done In Baby Summer Squash).
And we wore clothes of mango. (Pronounced 'mahn-go'. Produced, (primarily) the same way). Mango juices and sugars, so sweet but a little itchy and heavy for the summertime that was. We all wore beautiful clothes of mango until I ruined it.
You see, I woke up (hot and sweaty) and went (hot and sweaty) to the kitchen (hot and sweaty). And there was Summer Time in my kitchen, cool as a cucumber. She was cooking lots of pots of hot(s) things frantically. We talked for a tick and when I realized who she was, she grew angry and everything grew even hotter. And hotter. (And hotter). And that was the melting of the first mango dress. Yes, my mango dress melted right off, like a dim light. Keeping my new found cool, I escorted Ms. Time right out the front door and introduced her to the town.
And thats when I ruined all of your clothes.
Yes, she melted all of everyone's clothes right off. I'd like to say sorry for melting all of your clothes, Phoenix Metropolitan Area, but the truth is- I'm not sorry. Those clothes, pretty as they were, were not appropriate for the summertime that was now even more so. Good riddance to all of your clothes because what happened next made good of the riddance.
Summer Time had long been gone, leaving a fiery sun in her wake, when the bees arrived. Yes, the bees. Imagine, if you will, the pure joy that shook the entire town when the bees came humming in. Of course, you don't really have to imagine. You were already there. So recall, the joy of the bees upon finding such a gold mine of sweet and sticky sugar soaked bodies. And remember the joy of wearing a light coat of bee kisses.
Bees bees everywhere! They mobbed the town and all the bodies in it. And they grew. Grew and grew in numbers, piling and piling on us as we went about our daily tasks. "Could you hand me that broom?" "Sure. You've got a bee on you." "Ha.".
And we grew. We grew and grew like trees. Trees of bees that, before long, attracted butterfly leaves. (Butterfly leaves? Yes, butterfly leaves. I don't know what their purpose was, but they sure did make a lovely picture. Butterfly leaves? Yes, you forget that I'm a girl and I dream, too. In butterfly leaves.) And we went outside to stretch our new limbs and down came the birds. Ballets of birds all over dancing and diving at our leaves and bark. Terrifying? Yes, but in the most pleasant and graceful way.
And so we lived our lives as trees of bees with butterfly leaves all done in baby summer squash.
Until Matt woke me up.