“You Think We Could Get It To Talk”?

They stood wide-eyed, looking at the specimen, afraid to go near.
Never had they seen anything like this! Does it breathe, bite? What strange life form, lives in a see-through box, hanging on a wall? How does one communicate with such a…thing?

Snow fell. Blue sky turned grey. Crystal chimes sang out, calling all return to ship.
“Should we take it with us? You think we could get it to talk? We’re told no one’s alive down here. Best  let it go.” Floating towards their ship, hearing a shrill ring behind them. They responded .”h e l l o?”


For Friday Fictioneers                        photo copyright: Danny Bowman


Ode to *Jimmy

you came
dressed in deep concern for who we are
asked me to listen
to come
to join

journeying to ancient stones
heavy with stories of the deeper meaning of life…
to remember we talked
without words
without air…
perfect understanding
in the blackest of black

*I read/heard that Hendrix originally spelled his first name “Jimmy”, but that he was convinced by his manager , Chas Chandler to change the spelling of his first name to ‘Jimi’ for marketing reasons.

Subway People

It’s coming to get me! photo:S.F.

Subway people are my friends.
We meet up every day,
to travel fast through space and time, spellbound illusions that never stay.

Sometimes the spell hits hard and fast, sometimes we lose our way.
Our eyes turn black,
we hold our breath
in tunnels deep and long.

But then our stop is pre- announced
it’s time for us to go.
We gather bags, and slip on shoes,
and rub our weary eyes.

“First me, no, ME, I got on last”,
our feathers start to fly.
And, now, he’s really PUSHING HARD.
I, growl, “what’s with this guy?”

We chatted all about our reads,
Kobos, komics, and, Kindles,
but now it’s time to say goodbye..
no more smiles, and cheerful mingles.

Doors are banging, lights are flashing,
yet, the arrival voice remains calm.
I’d like to meet this Holy one,
she doesn’t even know what’s going on!

I see my sign, this is my stop,
I really need to go,
I’m tired, hungry, hot, and wet,
“the air must be broken today.”

“Uh, ‘scuse me”, I cut sharply through,
facing a new subway ‘friend’…
“The protocol is – you don’t get on,
until, AFTER the miserable, exiting throng.”

“Glad you’re home, how was your day?
Oh, mine, it was just fine.
I met all sorts of people…
the subway is such a good time…”