Author: writtencasey

sharing bread with a family in a neighborhood

loaves of sourdough distributed

to 5 us. We each get our own. It’s too much.

Everyone eats. We are in a forest near the house I grew up

it’s fall (or autumn, if you wanna get technical),

the family and I go to this performance space

like ampitheatre but more aisles in the wings to work with.

lots of others

working hard. knowing their bits to do.

Proud of whatever they are creating.

Instant feeling of ‘aw what the hell, Casey, pitter patter-let’s get at ‘er.’ Unprepared; no clue what the project is.

“Flaneur!”someone yells

hey I know this word! Only recently found out about it

so naturally, I start grinning and looking around to see this lucky flaneur.

after too long, I look back at the fellow who called for the flaneur.

Trying to see if his eyes point it out

and of course he’s staring at me, like I’m a complete idiot. Seen me looking all around at hearing my own moniker.

he’s got a blonde headed little girl standing on his left foot

pulling at his arms

talking at him (and possibly the Universe?) a mile a minute.

the guy looks like a preppy quarterback I knew from childhood maybe

15ft away an attractive blonde is wicked angry at waiting for him to finish his business.

she looks tired and like she has more obligations than are necessary.

the guy mid-thirties is quite good at pretending he doesn’t notice it and isn’t annoyed.

I consider asking if he has considered being a broker

However, I start to get impatient,

is dude gonna say something of relevance?

oh wait I’m the flaneur-need to settle down and meander.

Chill Casey. Figure out how this situation came to be about itself.

(me) yeah, guy, I forgot.

(guy) we know

(me) that I was flaneur, that is

(guy) we know

(me) boundary shifts…

(guy) ok are you done talking yet?

he doesn’t look impressed

I could give an eff. he’s got two gals that are trying to impress him

and he yelled for me says nothing

so go be impressed over there and I’ll do me

unless, you have something to say

effing men, sometimes.

but I’ve only spoken about myself and made assessments.

(guy) take that girl. Keep her busy. Show her whatever the eff it is you do. She’ll sleep at 8. her house. She can show you.

Guy vanishes.

Another blonde girl, one i’d not noticed, is walking over

no smile

husky gal

fit in suggestive, too-tight clothes.

strutting: if it can be called that

just painful to see

cringeful

you wanna give her a hug after you slap her.

I fill with dread at spending one sec with this girl

that’s unfair-she’s a kid

but, man, I realize im a bit tired

and the psychic prep to not allow this ‘un to zap me is gonna take effort

the psychic vampiricism is strong with this one.

Make her smile.

Do you think flaneur is related to the word flapper? (nonsense-worse yet, completely unfunny <if only someone had fallen down>).

The fuck? she says

(dream fades from memory)

(returning —)

at her house. Very messy, untidy but not yet dirty.

She lives with other kids is my guess.

The house is ranch style rambler. dark colors

the roof in disrepair. trees have fallen into it, now acting as roof themselves.

It’s raining.

She gets on her pallate. comforters, sheets, sleeping bags

all the rooms are set up with these beds

it’s is clearly a home where a family lives.

no simple flop

a pallate has been made for me

before I even enter the room.

there is water in the room.

the pallates are wet from accumulating rain water on hard wood floors that curve from warp.

she doesn’t say anything.

just gets under her blankets with her back to me

she’s putting out content even happy vibes. I can tell this is the highlight of her day.

I cry and feel bad for crying. do it quiet like

I’m chilly and wet. it reminds me of sailing

I sleep for 3 hrs

awake

listen to see if anyone’s up

silence.

I sleep 2 more hours

awake

I sleep 2 more hours

the house is full of people

moving the family out of the house