The words over at Three Word Wednesday are effect, immense and shimmer.
Sorry The Tension has been a little bleak these days for posts. No secure Interwebs connection. That all gets corrected this week.
When it happens, I’m in the North Woods of Central Park, high on a grassy point with trees and rocks on either end, my back pressed into a cool carpet of green.
Opening my eyes, I’m staring up at a giant black willow that has taken on an aura of lightness, a shifting of colors throughout the spectrum. I close my eyes, open them, and proceed to click through several new sight effects: infrared, spectral, classic color.
Zooming in, I watch each slender leaf get picked up by the breeze, begin to vibrate and within each branch join in a symmetrical symphony that brings to mind theory.
Intelligent Design? No, I toss that aside. Chaos? Too random.
And in the wavering of the leaves, it comes to me – String Theory, the musical notes of the universe all tuned and played under various tensions. Breathing deeply, I catch the wet earthiness of the meer to the east, the fragrant herbaceousness of the grass, the slight saltiness of the homo sapiens who surround me in the knoll, having kicked off their shoes and shed or arranged shirts delicately to soak up warm sun rays. While I feel the warmth, I also sense on my lucent shell gradient temperatures, barometric pressures and this alerts me to a change of seasons, that while still quite temperate out, there is a detectible bite of fall carried on the wind.
I am filled with undeniable lightness and immense joy.
Through new eyes I canvas my new casing, a shimmering that’s like a whisper.
And focus on the immense erection I’m sporting. Changing vision, I see waves of heat, colors that announce pleasure, arc-like waves of blue-bolt energy. Truly satisfied, I rise to a seated lotus position, raise my appendages and stretch.
From the corners of my peripheral vision – now nearly a complete 360 degrees – I focus on the two forms walking forward to my left. Nearly identical forms to my own, wisps of energy, but more rounded.
They walk by, appendages wrapped around each-other’s hips, sauntering gently in lock-step precision. As they pass, they giggle and wave, motion for me to join them. I rise, partner with them in the middle, resting my appendages on the swell of hips and slowly caress the round suppleness of what was once human flesh.
More giggles as we compare and contrast the fiery displays of our sexual organs, all electric and pulsating. Joining limbs, we collapse into a pile of static brilliance on the lawn.
I am stirred from resolute ecstasy by the yapping of a French bulldog, who senses our presence. He’s wearing a little black leather biker vest, the owner’s equally black leather leash secured by a silver ring. The owner tugs furiously on the dog, admonishing it for seemingly yapping at the breeze.
Past the dog, on the trail headed toward the meer, I scan my human self, walking our dog. She looks at the bulldog, then at our pulsating mass. My human form does the same.
I wave from the grass, triumphant and ecstatic.
He waves back from the asphalt, a furrow of slight recognition wavers across his face.
The dog strains at her leash as a squirrel bounds from a tree, scampers across the trail and disappears into the underbrush.
I watch myself turn, retreating around a bend in the trail, forward into his inescapable future.
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