Intro..                                                                          ...Back
Draw...                                                                          ..Along
Poems..                                                                          ...More



       This once happened in a suburban neighborhood which no longer exists. There lived
a boy named Patrick: and many people don't remember him anymore.     And if we take into
account that his memory has always fed on the forgery of images:  even he himself is not
quite in the picture anymore.  It's almost as if he ceased to exist: which didn't happen
suddenly   (he didn't disappear or evaporate like a ghost)   rather it looked as if some
another person grew around him: kind of similar: but definitely not as carefree.
       He was a little boy: an only child and spoiled.    He couldn't stand the pain and
cried quickly: but since he could lie well:    he managed to keep this secret from other
important guys. He was even Marosh' best friend       - who was the absolute boss on the
street: and they talked together:   that they have never cried before and will never cry
at all.
       It is not important that a few months later everything was shamefully revealed  -
because the following events took place while everything was in order and in place.
       Patrick woke up quite late that morning:      and although he wasn't particularly
aware of it - he felt great. His whole body was immediately started to fly away.
       There was a scent coming from the kitchen - coffee and some food: and someone was
talking there. It was Grandma and Aunt Anka: who divined from the coffee grounds:   what
happened to the white-faced girl:  "who lives in the attic flat above the grocery store:
that she now looks so blue" :and why they don't bake those big round breads anymore.
       The divine summer sun was shining outside.
       Patrick kicked off the quilt: turned onto his stomach: tucked his legs under him:
put his hands on the pillow: put his head on his hands and started singing Red Apple and
swaying from side to side.
       Everyone in Patrick's family called this act swaying:  and it was said:  that his
mother also did it: when she was little - and it was really powerful shamanism. Powerful
- such as casting spells and dancing for the rain: or for a good harvest:    because you
could ride a horse without a saddle during it:  and go hunting or jump into the water to
save Anka: and then take her to her house: where she was in love with another man:   but
Patrick also had another girl: which got very messed up:  and in the end: they had to be
just friends: even though he had to kiss her very badly.
       And every time they passed each other: she wanted only him   - because he was the
hero.
       Today was best to keep coming back to that moment: when she tells him she'll love
him forever and he then kisses her on her little thin lips and pointy nose    - like the
corner of his little pillow.
       Several times it happened that someone surprised him while he was swaying: but he
didn't mind: one could even say   - he sang even louder:   when he had an inkling:  that
someone was listening: and even louder: when he knew it was a stranger.   Something like
this happened to him many times after that:  and it happened many times to the person he
turned into as well and likewise: he was always a little ashamed afterwards.    But that
person could no longer afford to jump out of the window:    or hug someone tightly:   or
otherwise - just disappear - and thus leave the whole thing behind once and for all.

                         

       So when Patrick: in three graceful movements:    carried himself over the window-
sill straight into the garden: he had to slip quietly along the wall and up to the door:
where his sneakers were lying. If grandma had seen him outside in his socks:    he would
have had to listen to questions he didn't have answers to: and if he didn't want to look
guilty enough - he could have been spanked. 
       Although the drums were not heard often in his childhood song: Grandma dusted the
skin on his ass occasionally - and it wasn't that long ago    (Since then: he has really
started to suspect her of clairvoyance)       :when she caught him again naked under the
covers. He couldn't understand at all:   why she always turns so red  and starts pulling
his elbow - when he feels naked: in that smooth darkness: so pleasantly.
       There are always some extra great places in every garden:  and here it was mainly
around the fence and above the garage. If we do not count the attic         (where large
translucent walruses live in winter) :the whole garden was the most divine to play.
       The car garage: in which Grandma and Grandpa had bicycles:  was almost completely
glued to the fence: and when you pressed your ass against the wall:     you could slowly
climb up to its roof.
       There you could hide perfectly under the apricot branches:     fill yourself with
orange meat and lie somewhere in Africa:      where trees with cinnamon bark and vanilla
flowers grow. Or tearing shiny leaves:        making a hole in them with your tongue and
talking about what motorbikes and boats you will buy - when Marosh was also there   - or
what dogs we will buy: Anka - but this lately less:  because it was almost impossible to
do anything with Anka lately.

                                       

       When they met at the Ice Cream Parlor the day before yesterday:   she didn't look
him in the eyes at all and even called him by his last name: which bit:      and then he
didn't look at her too. He was looking at the ice cream woman's nutty belly:   which was
under the knot on her shirt: but it was unpleasant:     because Anka was still very much
there on the left       - and every breath she took hummed in his head like an insidious
crosswind: and in the end: he couldn't even say to her: "Anna"       :even though Marosh
shouted at her twice: "Fat cow."
       And the worst thing was that it was impossible to forget it:     and it was quite
disturbing to Patrick: when he wanted to think about her -   but now it was necessary to
be fast: really deadly rapidly: run off the porch.
       Patrick did it really at the last moment:     because grandma was just seeing off
Aunt Anka. When he was tying his sneakers around the corner: he heard:    that Aunt Anka
would send Anka: to let the children play together: and that she had already been beaten
today: because she had thrown new knee socks into the stove.
       That was good news         - that he would be able to be alone with Anka from the
morning. They could go look at the rails - where Marosh told him yesterday that     "the
cunt is a hairy woman" and he imagined her as some fat lady with hair on her cheeks  and
forehead: minutely and again and again.    As he now looked at the blue thing growing on
the midden: he said the word to the nettle: and it made him feel devilishly warm.
       There was always something to look at on the midden:  grandfather also put broken
wine and drowned kittens there: which meowed: when he drowned them in a bucket.  It took
a really long time then: and Patrick had to go and see them:  and they knew how to swim:
they climbed on their big blind heads and they opened their pink and purple mouths - and
later there they were: like three hairy bananas and you couldn't take your eyes off them
- how wormy and boiling they are.
       If he still manages to find their skeletons: similar to white-eyed lizards:    he
will be able to make sure again: that: they do not look blind at all: but as if they saw
some thick darkness: which now spills from their eyes.
       Patrick knew enough about darkness:  that it was good during the day:  but not at
night: because it was full of all kinds of red colors and movements:  but it was also as
tempting as the blackberry compote up in the pantry: and it was also healing to the eyes
and in the morning the breasts are hastily packed in it:     and the girls wear it under
their skirts: when you can see them into the far.
                       


                                    



       The pears were hung farthest in the garden.
       Patrick took a large gatherer from the fence:   which looked like a crazy net for
butterflies: and he immediately became supreme king:     and the president of all butter
pears up to the sky: about which the lavish crosier testified here in his hands.
       In the vineyard:    the gatherer fell from his hands among the dwarf apple trees:
which were crouching there under the grapes: and five of their huge hard and sour apples
fell to the ground -  everyone admired them even though no one could ever eat them  - so
he quickly ran back to the fence to hide behind the dry branches.
       There were always ants and he was very fond of ants: from the days:   when he was
riding in a stroller - he was looking at them through the stupid upholstered hoop: which
could not be undercrawled: neither pushed away: nor anything - as they walk freely along
the sidewalk and he was stretching out his arms over them.
       Today they had some weird long wings like Zorro's cloaks:     but they didn't fly
anywhere: instead they followed each other on foot:     and that seemed quite strange to
Patrck - he would rather have understood:   that they would perform like those acrobatic
swallows: when it is about to start raining - and they fly close to people's ears.
       The ants were marching somewhere in the vegetables: and Patrick remembered:  that
Grandma had soaked the speckled beans for sauce yesterday:  and that it would be nice to
eat a little.
       Grandma wondered: when he came out and why she didn't hear him at all:    but she
was in a pretty good mood: so it was enough for her: when he said: "a while ago:"    and
asked for food    - what always calmed her: and also to Anka's grandmother it always did
good expresion on her face: - so it was necessary to do it often:      and then eat with
gusto in front of them - then they were good children.
       Grandma did not establish lunch yet: she was just preparing a cake and she had an
almost full bowl of boned cherries on the table.
       Patrick was all transformed into cherry bliss: fortunately Grandma didn't notice:
that his hands weren't washed: because: she was busy mixing snow. 
       Grandma was a powerful winter queen.
       There was nothing good in the fridge: so Patrick asked for bread with butter  and
ground paprika and sat down opposite the open door. When he was finishing the long brown
crust: the gate creaked: and therefore:    he had to quickly get back into his sneakers:
what he did great:  and immediately ran like flash on a hard clay path to the gate:   on
which he had to donate blood from his knee many times.
       But not today.

                         

       Anka was wearing some kind of white girl's dress:  which was tied behind the neck
with a bow: white sandals and green dotted panties that showed through her skirt.  So it
was clearly visible: that they would not go to the track today.    But Patrick wasn't so
sorry: because he knew for sure: that their great shared passion for snails and beetles:
certainly hadn't left her:  and it would be enough to turn a few bricks on their bellies
- and so it happened.
       She was very afraid of those rusty centipedes: which always zigzagged into a hole
like accordion buses and she was afraid of cobwebs: even though not spiders.
       He never understood that: and the poor spiders also:   because she always chopped
every their net what she saw.   :But she knew how to grab anything in her hand: and even
the locusts: of which Patrick was afraid in turn.
       When they had enough round flat ones in the cup: what do they pretend to be dead:
it was necessary to institute a farm for snails: but there were no pink ones anywhere  -
these were the most valuable: because there were the least of them -     and they didn't
find the ones with the thick brown stripes either. 
       That's why Patrick had to climb through two gardens - through trick barbed wires:
iron spikes: and other insidious militia: to get under the old walnut: where pink snails
most often lived.
       He did a great job in all of this:  and when: he leaped before Anka straight from
the top of the fence: he felt a warm triumphant pride in himself: which still warmed him
for a while: also then: when he was putting snails on burdock and apricot leaves:    but
when she then pulled her panties to her knees: stepped on the path in front of him:  and
gave him the first long blue look in his life: so: he could no longer say: how he felt.
       He used to be happy: when he had his mouth full of vanilla cream: or: he used to
feel cold or heat: or he was normally weak: but now: he felt kind of overmixed.
       Patrick had never seen so far away.
       And even though: he focused on her at that time only two slightly longer views -
and it all lasted barely a quarter of a minute: it all remained in his head:     nicely
detailed: every moment: glued with a strong 3 second glue.
       As she crouches there: the second blue look: when she takes burdock:  shakes the
snail from it: and she leaves it there a side: to guard itself letter secret.. 
       As she puts her panties by thumbs quickly: when it's all over..
       And: as easily: she runs from there in a moment:         through the orange gate
directly onto the summer-heated street.