………….A Muse F’ Hive

At the main terminal. It is hot and getting hotter. On the way we passed a little house and it brought back a montage of memories. I have been in many houses, just like that one, in the now-decades of my life.

Tiny frame house about to fall into the ground propped up only by the will of the people who live within the flimsy walls. Old frame house painted a strange colour of pink that was free paint from someone else’s wall project and it was only enough paint to cover the front half. The back half shows the gray slat wood siding bleached by the sun. The front yard is full of trash, cleverly disguised into art. This sort of yard is never watered so no lawn mower needed but also so overgrown with native plants that there is no need to worry how it looks. Nature makes it beautiful.

I imagine it is two stoners who live there. They have an amazing ganja plant in the back yard. They know me.

“Hey Miss Mary where you been all these years! We missed you from WAAAYYYYY back in the day! My ol’ man is on over 200 generations of selective plant breed in’ they ain’t caught us out yet! Man you should pack a bong with this shit you ain’t never comin’ down ’til you reach…say you still callin’ yerself a Martian?” I am grinning, “Haha I know’ you was still crazy! Here have some sun tea! Here he comes look in’ all proud of his bad ol’ self!”

I watch him saunter up the broken concrete walk that lead to the crumbling slantisider stairs. The walk looks deliberate and Kimmy noticed.

“When that last quake happin’d it done busted the walk and the foundation but the Lawd is good ain’t none of th’ plumbin’ messed up. He took a sledge hammer to the walk then and made it look a lot prettier since it was done broke. He brangs back all kinda stuff and we git real high and he gits his arc welder and I tell him how I want it put.”

Been thirty years since I saw them. They always kid me about my ‘accent’ I just let her talk.

“Hey Kimmy look what I found!” He holds out two rusty old wrought iron chairs, “Kimmy who is…Lawd it ain’t you it? After all these years? Man I KNOW I am gitt’n old! Kimmy break out my best we gonna celebrate and then she kin hep us arrange the new stuff!”

But that never happened it is just my imagination as it flies back through time to bring an old vet and his old lady into the present moment where I am passing a tiny frame house and I can almost taste the sun tea running cool down my throat while the smell of ganja drifts through a front yard lost in time.

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