Balogun

 

Venturing out these days has the same vibration as walking an old Roman road when they were old but not as old as now. The faces all sorts of colours, languages and sounds different cultures make, the aromas and smells of other peoples foods; even the Pope is an American. 

I have a few oddities that aren't odd anymore, they are becoming normal...

The Nigerian communist scammer mayor of Colorado Springs is up for reelection.

The Nigerian cardiologist has an 'open' sign on his door.

The pilot on my last flight, "hasn't done anything that's made me worried yet." over heard somewhere...

"What?" 

said in a quizzical manner

mathing as fast as I can

Number one the mayor fiasco, they obviously wanted him in that position or the FBI would have told the populas that he had pre knowledge of the contrived 'racist' burning of a sign before his last election. The crime is rampant and there are bums in the north, south, east and west. 

2, This is not anomaly. Do we not have enough American doctors? Why? Grasping on to the process of who decides who gets into medical school (no matter my disdain for the hack of a profession it is under the guise of Insurance companies) and what are the criteria. Did they make 'doctoring' unfashionable as doctors these days are considered lapdogs of big pharma? Rhetorical. 

# three. What? What? Why? Did the great rona removal (of competent people from important positions (except mayor, everyone knows that's a joke now) deplete American jobs so much so they brought in Nigerians? 

Nigeria is not a colony of the United States.

נטלות

 

Well, there you have it. 

…and she lifted off

Closed Window

 

There were three new signs today, two covered in plastic covers made for a three ring binder, taped to the window.

“THE WINDOWS WILL REMAIN CLOSED UNTIL 1:00 pm FOR All QUESTIONS, SAMPLE PICK UP, SPECIMEN DROP OFF, AND CHECK INS”

on the closed window 

“We are at

lunch from 

12:00 PM-

1:00PM”

“Please do not change the channel” 

on a precisely severed paper 1/3 of its original size taped and hanging from the bottom of the television in the corner. 

0

 

11 eyes, 3 eyes, one eye, if an eye is looking it can see.

May I take a gander down a path gone before, spells and words spin the dust from mid ground. 

It's smoke filled with shimmers of rattles, a deep drum beat that lulls the step in time.

Scents of jasmine and rose meander here and thicker there.

A look deep in the woods and the amber tone of the setting sun catches your eye on the long fallen leafed ground, layered with tree limbs, through fresh green you can see how life starts, with decay.0 

 

Semigraphic

 

One dimension 

Two dimensions 

Three dimensions more

Four dimensions 

Five dimensions 

Six dimensions 

Seven dimensions tear

Eight dimensions 

Nine dimensions 

Ten dimensions 

Eleven dimensions say here

The ball changed to a circle then a splinter then gone

Signage

 

“…Zolpidem, lasix…”, she leaned her heavy body against the counter and speaks quietly to the woman behind the frosted shoji style windows, of which the center has a noticeable assortment of plastic sheet covered papers, some brightly coloured, two in simple black and white and yet others sternly highlighted. A wide bright red cloth with staggered white flowers covered her thick body like a tent, but decorated. Black long pants with slip on shoes, her toes barely squeezed through, the backs of her dry cracked bloated feet hang off the end. Her checks blended with her neck, plum hewed and scaly. 

“What’s your date of birth?”

“10. 2. 71, I stopped taking my allopurinol in October because I thought the doctor told me to and my nephrologist wants me to see what my chart says…”

“But I don’t know if I miss heard him…”

“Says here that you should be taking it.”

Her question answered the red draped woman turned to the left and faced two doors, one with a large white sign with red lettering signifying Exit, above the door another Exit sign , this one lighted behind red plastic. The other door a bit set back had two signs, an almost matching Exit sign but stating Not An Exit and underneath a taped to the door black and white paper aggressively highlighted in a preternatural bright yellow, an explanation that the door used to be unlocked but from hence forth it will remained locked until you are invited through.

Her out turned feet make their way, her upper body jostles back and forth with each step to the door with the Exit sign on and above.

  

Witch Doctor

 

The long bleak hallway rolled past her eyes, the air filled with drifting dead cells and spells, a printed name on a pedestrian paper taped to an intersection accompanied by an arrow. Down the hallow hall another paper signifying the place between worlds and a blue and white open/closed sign, flipped to open.

She pulled down the handle, opened the door to the space in the place and was met with the same drab lifelessness. 

In walked the Witch Doctor.