So one day I and my buddy Andy set out on a TRIP through ManchVegas. Beforehand we drank ourselves a WITCHES brew of alcohol and psilocybin, loaded our gear for the task at hand, and set out on our way.
We walked down past the longest graveyard in Manchester on Brown Ave. The brew hit quick so to keep myself in check I ran my fingers down the emerald green fence that circled the graveyards perimeter. As I was doing this I came across a florescent pink plastic ribbon. I stopped in my tracks and started to tear lil pieces form it, and placed those pieces in a spiral pattern in the palm of my hand. Andy notice that I wasn’t following anymore, and came trotting back to see what I was up to. I showed him what I made and he became a MAZE. He was breathless.
“That looks like a florescent pink rose in the palm of your hand.” he said.
“Sure does.” I reply.
“How did you do that?”
“Don’t know, don’t care. Looks a Maze ing though.”
“Sure does. I’m spellbound.”
As soon as he said that I tossed the florescent pink rose in the air and its petals cascaded around us.
Our main destination was the Brown Ave train trussel, overlooking the Merrimack River. That was one of our many stomping grounds. That and a few other places around the Manchester area, MT. Saint Mary’s being another one.
So we continued on our way dodging through traffic like we were in a game of Frogger.
By the time we reached our destination it was nearing twilight. Fire flies were out dancing in the winds. We walked down to the other end of the train trussle tossing rocks in between the rails of the tracks causing sparks to flare up while the stones ricochet forward. The SKYs were a deep red, orange, purple, and blue green. That’s the funny thing about New England, we get some of the most beautiful colored SKYs , because of all the pollution it our troposphere. Other places around the world get this same effect but in America the jet stream flows from west to east, starting over near California/ Oregon and continuing down through the lower mid-west. The jet stream then curves upward and empties out over the Atlantic Ocean in New England. During its journey it carries the rest of the pollution it has picked up from around the United States.
Anyways at the other end of the trussel there was a trail that leads down a beach along the river. Along this beach was one of my most favorite trees. I called it the setting tree. Andy called it the sparing tree. This tree came up out of the ground and forked. One of the forks bent at a 90 degree angel parallel with the ground. Other small tress grew right beside it making it easy to balance if needed. Me and Andy would spare on it quite a bit. Andy would always leave his boots on when we spared, he was afraid he might hurt himself. I always spared with my shoes off because that way I could move quicker and climb the trees quicker. Some people have told me I’m like a monkey I don’t climb trees I run up them.
Sorry I’m getting side tracked and on another tangent ,on with the story. So Andy and I reach the setting tree and I toss him a bag and some papers to roll up a blunt. While he is doing that I’m rockin’ out on my bongo’s. We sat there on the setting tree during high tided feet dangling in the water soaking in all the scenery to the rhythm of my war drums, when this man walks out from the woods. Andy was startled by him but I just kept with the rhythm.
“I heard those drums from a long while ago. You have some rhythm son.” He says.
I look over at him but couldn’t see his face. The moon was out now and the silver glow off his bright white skin made it seem like he was just a blur. He was bald and wearing these overalls. I said, “Why thank you Sir.”, and continued with my rhythm while Andy passed me the blunt of sweet green leaf.
“I use to come down here a long time ago to get away and smoke. Mind if I join ya? I got alittle of my own.” The silver man said.
“Sure, I don’t mind. As long as you don’t mind if I pay you no never mind. I really don’t want to talk, but I do wanna hear what you have to say. I’ll just keep whaling on these bongos of mine while we smoke. I’m sure my buddy Andy here wouldn’t mind talking to you. He has been quiet all night. And like I said I aint much in the talking mood. We took these shrooms earlier on this evening and now we are both in our own little world. “
“That’s fine by me.” The man said.
So now there were three of us on the setting tree smoking sweet green leaf. Andy and I were smoking our blunt while the silver man in overalls was smoking out of a soapstone bowl he had brought with him. I continued rockin’ out on my bongos, and Andy talked to the silver man while I listened in.
The silver man use to be a steel smith worker. He worked on railroad and bridges. He even helped build the BROWN AVE train trussle, the one we were setting under. He went on about all kinds of stories from his past. Nasty accidents he had seen to glorious achievements of his. His stories were fun to listen to. Every so often I would turn to look at his face and I couldn’t make out a single description it was just a silver white blur. After he was done smoking and telling his stories we all said our good byes.
“It was real nice meeting you two young bucks.” He said, “but I gots ta get going. You two take it easy. Oh and if you ever get the urge the view is lovely from the top of the trussle.”
“Thanks for the Tip SIR. I’m sure gonna use it. It was nice to meet you as well.” I reply while still hammering away on my drums.
Andy chokes up a, “Yeah nice to meet you. Take it easy.”
So the silver man walked up the path through the woods back towards the train trussle and we never saw him again.
Andy and I stayed until we finished our blunt. When I knew for sure the silver man was gone and out of sight I asked Andy, “So did you get a look at his face? I couldn’t make it out under the glow of the moon.”
“No I didn’t” he replied a little shookin’ up.
“What do you mean NO!?! He was setting right next to you. You both had a 30 minute conversation about steel work.”
“I couldn’t make any of it out it was just a blur. I mean I can make your face out but his kept moving. Who was he!?! What was he?!?”
I smiled,” Calm down, Calm down. You’re acting like you have just seen a ghost.”
“Stop picking on me, and pass me that blunt. I need to calm down.”
We finished our blunt and I finished my anthem. We then went back up the trial and along the path I found a soap stone bowl on the rocks. I never told Andy because I didn’t want to rattle his nerves any more than they already were which was easy to do.
“Before we leave Andy, I have one more Anthem to play. If you don’t mind?” I ask.
“Sure go ahead. I don’t mind.”
So I started to scale up the side of the trussle to get to the top to play my war drums.
“You didn’t say you were going to play it up there. Are you crazy?!? We are all kinds of fucked up. You’re gonna kill yourself up there.”
I yell down, “You’re all kinds of fucked up. Me I’m just normal.”
I found a spot in the middle of a steel I beam, sat down Indian style, and started my rhythm up once more. The man in silver was right. It was a wonderful view. It was quite the rush as well. Being over 100 feet above the Merrimack River listening to its current smash along granite stones, gets the blood pumping. I was pounding hard on my drums. I'm sure you could have heard them from a mile away carried in the wind.
Before I knew it Andy had climbed his way up as well. I turned to say Hi when I noticed him crying.
“Why did you make me climb up here? Why did you make me follow you?” he said with tears rolling down his face. “I didn’t want to do this. I’m gonna die up here.”
I smile and say, “I did no such thing. I didn’t ask you to follow me. I never asked you to climb up here. I never told you ta kill yourself. you did these things on your own free will.”
“Please Mike let’s get down from here. I don’t wanna die.”
“Then don’t die.”
“Stop it with your silly riddles. Stop playing your silly drums. I just wanna go home now. This isn’t fun anymore. Stop smiling so big you look crazy.”
I could see the FEAR had taken over him. He had no control over himself. If I didn’t stop he was gonna die. He was gonna hurt himself. So right then I stopped everything. I stopped playing my silly drums. I stopped talking in riddles. I stopped smiling.
“Ok Andy. You win. Let’s get down from here and go home.”
“How do I get down from here?”
“The same way you got up silly. Instead of forward do it backward and upside down.” Ok I didn’t stop all the way with the riddle talk. =P “Plant your shoes flat with the steep diagonal beam squat on your butt a little and waddle your way back down with your hands gripping the sides. It’s almost like a slide, but you just don’t want to follow it all the way down.”
We both made it back down safely. When we reached the bottom and were on solid ground I rolled another blunt to puff on to settle our nerves. We then started on our way back home across the train trussel, under the moon light, in a mist surrounded by fire flies.
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