HURRICANES SHOULD BE NAMED AFTER LOVERS,

a savage journey into Love , Sex, and Dreams.

.

A Story by Paul Phoenix

CHAPTER III  

I VISITED HEAVEN OR LAS VEGAS…I CAN’T TELL

...We chased each other over the rolling Carolina hills, far away from your mama’s call. I remembered how God hid behind the clouds and the sky bursted with tears as we danced in the warm summer rain into the late August afternoon. Playfully praying a garden grows where we lay our carefree nappy heads. He smiles down on us as burning trees sway to the song birds in the late late afternoon. Dirt falls from your fingertips onto my face as you point up at the late august moon. Mason jars full of fire lies used as lanterns as we chase them through thick bristly bushes where black bugs bite both of our skinnylegs...Nodding off as His arms wrap around me as we made love to time by the lake. Memories pacify as we pass the time, in a rush to be grown… Why was we so Ashamed of our shaded blue skin as it bask under the pale moon light, 


Lovers left ‘lone in the rearview with unopened love letters in lefthand and hurricane’s hurling homeward in the distance… drifting at the speed of light from childhood memories… unhurried as His foot guides me through the rolling hills. Heaven’s just a house for the holy because we built this home into our own paradise… a hurricane’s haunts the horizon just like a hurricane haunted the house of our parents,


 I saw your mother in Sunday church praying for me. Praying love never will wither like winter flowers. You’re her only daughter and I feel the pressure of – time. Everything… We imagined our children singing while watering a garden full of flowers. Cannonballing off of rooftops into a sea of uncertainty, kissing the cold earth as I pull myself up onto the dry land…All that remains is a little rusty tin box with a combination lock containing memories … A heavy purple rain washed away the tiny numbers on the little lock… God was forgetting about me…I’ve already forgotten about Him as those days of youth perished in time...Time was swimming out of my veins and drenching the earth at my toes,


 “PAUL!!!”… I’m alive…I’m – “PAUL!!!PHOENIX WAKE UP!!I know you can hear me…WAKE UP…” My cousin Peter thumbs through his big white book while he waits for me by the front gate. Neon signs selling sin, silhouettes of street stalkers in stilettos call out my name from across the street because I’m at a crossroads… “PAUL- please don’t go…Please…” I’m tempted by the damned but I haven’t seen my mother in such a long time i almost forgot what color her voice was. Her tender eyes call out to me as she holds hands with my cousin Peter…home … the lights getting brighter… “Come home ,Man…”… ”PAUL!!!!” …” Good, keep talking to him.”… “Come home…” “STOPPEN SIE DEN WAGEN!!” …”I missed you, baby boy.”… “Drei...” “Come walk with me big boy!” “Zwei… ””Paul Phoenix wakeup…” “EINS!!!



“Aaaaaahhhh!!!!!Aaaahh!! Aah!!Aaaaaaaahhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”A bolt of lightning ignited my soul and ricocheted through all 206 bones in my body. I’m alive! I’m fuckin’ alive! I’m alive?? How?God must of patched up the hole in the bottle of my hour glass: It’s not your time, my son, too soon. I haven’t forgotten about you... The hounds of Hades jaws snapped at my feet as my angels lifted me from the rowboat and delivered me back to the land of the living. I slipped the noose. I did. A new start…A new start… No. I was delivered. I didn’t do anything. Kill your demons and assassinate your ego… But now I must do something better with my life…My head whipped lash violently through the thick cloud of a frantic fusion of confusion and foresight that surrounded me; my eyes wanting to make a friend out of the faces gathered around me like a dying bond fire on a cold winter night. Who were these souls surrounding me?


 Stoic eyes with a twinkle of despise and self-loath and desdain gazed down upon me like sleep paralysis. Nine times out of ten, they got in the business of resurrecting junkies because their parents were junkies who died from the stuff and they were haunted by the  memories of never being able to save them…so they had a chip on their shoulders of repentance and atonement by saving the junkies on Alexanderplatz , Karl Marx Platz and everywhere in between.But the junkie didn’t want to be save.  They welcomed death like an old lover because it was easier than trying to make a living. But I was no junkie. I was just a kid who they caught at the wrong time enjoying a good time. I was no junkie.Scared eyes hidden behind Curious eyes peered out at me from the dark like a baby barn owl. Jupiter? Her eyes were wet and sparkling and beautiful- but full of melancholy- but also so full of vitality-I seen nothing like them before.“Paul, oh my god, I thought I lost you!” She threw her arms around my neck and held me tight to the point where i was almost suffocating.  I didn't tell her she was choking me. There's some kind of poetry in dying by the hands of someone you love. Marvin Gaye. Selena. Amy winehouse because love killed her. Maybe I'll die in her arms and I'll become famous posthumously. I doubt i would be the first man that died in her arms and I'm sure I wouldn't be the last.


We were heart to heart ; hers was beating so fast it could burst into a million pieces at a moments time. So was mine. This was all I ever wanted from her truth be told. Of all the people in the world, I was happy that she was right there by my side in my time of dying. There was something beautiful about the way the light twinkled off the tears rolling down her cheeks and the messy hair. I thought women like her never knew how to cry. I wanted to hug her but one of my wrists was handcuffed to the metal frame of the stretcher. I was in the back of an ambulance.



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