A Ghost Town Called Love

  • Preface
  • Tired
  • The Barmaid
  • Flock Of Grace
  • The Lost Goddess Pyramid
  • Back In The Haunted Saloon
  • Another High Noon 1
  • Chapel Floor
  • Hallelujah
  • Remember The Shooting Of Gabrielle Giffords
  • Pulaski And The Great Switcherroo
  • Another High Noon 2
  • Yuma
  • Pulaski And The Deep Ravine
  • Wall Street Occupiers Visit Washington DC
  • Pulaski And The Bear
  • Mary
  • Another High Noon 3
  • Another High Noon 4
  • Oh No Another One Dead And Gone
  • Raft
  • A Nice Social-Security Landing
  • The Mummy's Cry
  • Pulaski At The Mission
  • Kicked Out
  • Walk Like An Egyptian
  • Lost Goddess
  • The Other Ghost Arrives
  • Diana
  • Table Talk
  • A Devotional For Diana
  • I Awake
  • Almost High Noon
  • Immaculate Heart
  • Time To Cowboy For Obama
  • Out Of Egypt The Lord Called His Son
  • A Fair Exchange Of Services
  • Martian Door To Door Campaigners In Arizona
  • Mice Lost In The Maze
  • More Martian Door To Door Campaigners In Arizona
  • Crazy Man's Outfit
  • Trying To Be Like Dick Cheney
  • Snitch
  • Door To Door Campaigner Ike
  • The Sheriff
  • Visitor
  • Repercussion
  • Isom's Luck
  • Midnight At The Oasis
  • That's My Desire
  • Are You Ready To Ride With Obama
  • Ghost Face
  • Arizona Looking More And More Like Mars
  • Diana Returns
  • Door To Door Campaigner Franklin
  • Surrounded
  • Door To Door Campaigner Eleanor
  • Mary's Saloon Beckons Ghost Face
  • Martians for Obama In Casa Grande Arizona
  • Going To The Chapel Of Love
  • Riding For Obama
  • Epilogue


 


 

~~~

Table Talk

~~~


Her foot eventually signals its presence on

the edge of my chair

by means of one whispering tap upon

my ghostly rubies.

~

“I still believe in transient relationships,”

says the newly-arrived shade

of Diana.

“In fact, before he hung me by the neck

until dead from that wearisome tree, the

sheriff & I…”

~

Diana stops talking with

her mouth.

She now talks with

her foot.  Her toes, especially the big one, tell

the torrid tale.

Her heel grinds home the punch line.

~

“The sheriff & you ~ what?”

~

Now her eyes quietly repeat

the confession of lewd debauchery

page after page after page

in about 7 zooming seconds.

~

She smiles.

~

Horrified I howl,

“No, not the sheriff!”

My fist slams down on the table, which

disintegrates into a pile of dust, there in

the broken-down hotel cafe.

~

Diana is standing now, chair discarded.

She steps forward.

Little puffs of dust arise.

“Poor boy.  You’re upset over nothing.”

~

She’s still smiling.  She can’t help it.

~

“Nothing?” I howl ~ still sitting.

~

“Nothing,” she sighs.

She steps closer closer ~ looms

over me like

The Statue of Liberty

come alive & opening her court-room robe.

~

My eyes go cross-eye-ed

and my soul becomes unglued

by the close proximity of the

living tabernacle of the sacred light!

~

(Copyright Clyde Collins 2012)

~~~