La Llorona

Drifting in and out of here or there

Friday, June 23, 2006

Slipping through the cooler

I am water today, sliding into a home through the reedy natural smelling cooler pad on a swamp cooler in the desert.
The home is clean, neat, comfortable with niches for Indian pottery but containing bright glass sculptures instead. Pink adobe curved doorways, lots of windows. A sad dark figure stood at the desk to one side. Still, stareing into nothingness.
Suddenly I was terrified.
I slipped out through the fan above the stove, the soot puffing out of the little chimny before my exit and following me too. Anyone watching might have worried about fire.
I glimpsed the dark sad one through the window and thought I might have seen the glint of gun metal in the hand, the raising of the arm, the pop. But I fled too fast to be sure, terror escalating into panic.


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