Living In The Second Heaven

Diary entry: From my vantage point I looked down at a patchwork maze of rooftops that shielded the city down below, most were terra cotta tile, some were sheet metal, and others wood, my nest was high, I nested among the stars, two young dark haired girls, they could have been twins, sisters, one sister’s face shone like the bright Morning Star, the other, like the dazzling Venus of the evening; from the great wide bird’s nest, the view was intense, the sun and the moon could be seen below, running their respective circuits around the earth, like two relay runners in a marathon in which they were in no hurry to finish, Paulie pondered the myriads of chimneys that protruded from the rooftops, they smoked in different ways, some smoked like that elegant lady in the old movies who always wore a silk robe and had marabou slippers on her feet, holding a cigarette demurely in a long slender holder, she would exhale a thin stream of smoke from puckered lips that expanded into a cloud which made it hard to see, fogged your senses until you were lost, a cloud in which all your reason and will faded away into some gut wrenching need to please, then some of the chimneys smoked like the old man at the pool hall, smoke came from everywhere, thick unruly cigar smoke seemed to belch from every crevice in his ancient weathered face, and some chimneys were devoid of smoke altogether, they stood cold and empty in a repulsive nudeness like your dry brittle Christmas tree after Christmas when it has been stripped, and it’s fine colorful raiment has been packed away in musty cardboard boxes in the attic; lifeless, dead, cold chimneys that bespeak the fate of those living amongst them, Venus of the Morning mixed martinis while the Shining Evening Star gazed through the night, all was quiet far away in our stick nest above the world, all was good, it was all like it should be, Paulie was called “The Great One” in those days, but days don’t seem to last as they should, eras end and new eras begin, when the Desoto runs out of gas in the desert, the trip is over, leaning on the starter will get you nowhere, it’s time to face facts, you’re done, please allow Paulie to cite the words he heard long ago from a wise man, “Every wise man today was an idiot yesterday”, “Don’t look at yesterday’s egg, look at today’s chicken”, Paulie wishes love and shalom to all of yesterday’s great ones who now walk the earth instead of flying above it, do not despair, the cake may be gone but there are still a few crackers left in the cupboard…


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