MOUNT TELLURIDE

Mount Telluride
PM 1301201

When the dream begins in blue I

don't fear nightmares, only when

it starts to turn red do I desperately

try and wake myself up before the

witch makes her appearance or I

begin my descent into a bottomless pit.

Surreal in blue is soothing to the

stomach and I can lose myself

in it, talking playing cards and 

food that moves around on your

plate without the help of insects or

magic.

The roast potatoes never make

friends with the salad and balsamic

dressing acts as a balm,

covering up the day's aches and

pains. I lie there wondering if

donkeys cry and if so, what kind

of sound would they make?

I am far too interested

in animal noises and depend on

children to let me know their take

on the matter, they will always

hear things we cannot.

"Ricky is being the epitome of refractory 

today," a quote that had made the 

rounds in my brain far too many times

of late and I wonder why.

I have ascended Mount Telluride

and as I gaze down on sleepy,

snow-covered Colorado towns I realize

the end is not as near as I once

suspected, that I do have some control

over the strings that are slowly encircling 

my neck and tightening their grip based

on radio reception wave figures.

Mount Telluride has disappeared

and once again I have transported

myself to Pico Aleman and I have

the whole Plain of the Retired Nazi Generals

spread out before me,

chalet roofs peaking out from beneath

the trees, a small creek running through

the centre of town, German flags interspersed

between the occasional "celeste y blanco",

and I understand the fear of fire,

the stench of death and the mighty

downswing of Thor's hammer as he wreaks

his justice for the innocent and downtrodden.

Lunging, the panther shoots out of the spring-

thistled bush and captures my skin and flesh

in it's claws and I wait for the sabre-tooth

to pierce my skull and allow my brain 

to leak out.

All I have to do is run down the mountain

but the path has been hidden.

The Viet-Cong have set their traps and

I must learn to cry in Spanish like a donkey.

MCC