The Treacherous Seven

The Treacherous Seven were not known for their kindness rather they were known for their treacherousness but their use of the word treacherous was widely misunderstood.  Most people were familiar with the Merriam-Webster on-line definition that defined the word treacherous as “not able to be trusted”; however, the Merriam-Webster on-line dictionary also defined treacherous as “providing insecure footing or support” and it was this definition that that the Treacherous Seven were contemplating when they were deciding upon a name for their acrobatic troupe, which they hoped would become the most famous in the land due to their gravity defying and treacherous acrobatics.  Soon after their formation, word spread that they were indeed the most treacherous acrobatic act in all the land but the majority, if not all, acrobat promoters believed this meant that they were the least trustworthy acrobatic act to work with.  Fearful of double crossing and broken contracts, not one promoter would agree to work with the Treacherous Seven and without regular work, the Treacherous Seven found their skills and bodies atrophying for want of work and performance opportunities. However, despite their failed dream of becoming the most famous acrobatic troupe in the land, they remained good friends supporting and caring for one another through hard times, ensuring that not one member was ever in need of the basic sustenance of life.  Their friendship was their only luxury but they all felt it was the only luxury they truly needed. Eventually they all passed away and were never remembered or even known for their gravity defying and treacherous acrobatics.  However, they were remembered long after they had all died as the most loyal of friends anyone had ever heard of. 

Chicken Legs

There was nothing about her chicken legs that she liked.  In fact, there was nothing about her chicken legs that anybody liked.  For her, they were dry and itchy and uncomfortable.  To everyone else they were dry and scaley and they made them feel uncomfortable.  She could run really fast with them but then she would win all the races, which caused everyone to be jealous and resentful.  Her legs were good for scratching at the dirt but she didn't have much use for scratching at the dirt and people who liked scratching at the dirt were also jealous and resentful.  But that had less to do with her chicken legs and more to do with her chicken feet. 

Too Many Pants

It was a day of too many pants. He woke up and began his day like any other day until it was time to put on his pants.  He fished out a pair from a pile of freshly washed pants and put them on. But another pair of pants seemed just as appealing as the first pair so he put those pants on too.  He hadn't removed the first pair.  He just put the second pair on right over the first pair.  And then he wondered.  And soon he was putting more and more pants on without removing any of the previous pairs until soon thereafter, he had on too many pants. 

on the cusp of something

Their last hour was spent together in the early morning under a mixture of diner lighting and the reality of day break that chased away any beauty left behind from the pre-dawn glow.  Not long before, the depths of a midnight sky cloaked the promise of unknown possibilities as they went from adventure to adventure, lifetimes spent within each passing hour feeling such uninhibited joy as they sought to find hidden grandeur, resolution and clarity.  But the inky sky revealed no such treasures that night and the sunrise rose much like a guillotine falls, cutting off the future and the possibility of their hopes.  No matter how close they had came or intently they had looked, it was always just out of reach, hidden seamlessly in the night.  They avoided any admit of defeat in their final moments together, instead hoping for another chance even though they weren't sure they'd ever see each other again. They had changed that night but regardless, their lives would still go on much the same. 

Connections

I believed him when he said, “Just send it to me subliminally, I’ll know what you’re talking about.”  But after I sent it to him, my mind to his, I received no response and wondered if he really did know what I was talking about.  But then I remembered, I had sent him a picture, not an explanation.  Sometimes no words are necessary.

What?

What is this existence? What is real?  What matters?  Why?  These are the things that went through his mind on a daily basis.  Why does the pond I live in smell like rotten eggs?  Why do flies taste so good on some days but not others?  Why is my skin green?  These were the types of questions that would emerge from the former questions and that would keep him awake while all the other frogs hibernated.  The last thing he asked himself regarded the deterioration of democratic institutions coinciding with the mysterious disappearance of the once strong middle class but sadly, that thought never completely formed because of the dog that ate him. 

The Duck Was Blind Presents: by Holga

Phish by Holga

Bonnaroo  2009