Let a Smile Be by Jerry Vilhotti
Johnny decided to go look for accommodations.
He told the travel agent that if she did it for them it would have stifled a "doing it like a real tourist thing".
Johnny told Linda Ann that she would be comfortable in the park beneath lovely trees watching their luggage and by the time he returned she would be feeling better.
Still resenting her a bit for having devoured his hot-hot spicy meal saying it was hers, he sort of delighted that she was feeling the effects of the never-before-eating-anything-more-spicy-than-a-tiny-dash-of-black-pepper.
He bitched and moaned for ten minutes on how she had stolen his meal but, the fact that they hadn't eaten for a day and a half due to their train being side tracked for hours waiting for the Mexican President to journey to the USofA to ask if Mexico could have back what had been stolen,
he couldn't blame her fully.
Just before the park entrance after two hours of trying to find accommodations and even going in a remote part of town where the very first people he had come to had had their humanity stolen feeling when he heard whistles happening about him that a Custer revenge was going to happen on him and so he retreated from the area shrouded in deep poverty he spotted a guy wearing blond hair.
He hoped it was the guy's.
Rushing up to The Guy nearly out of control with eyes glazed; surrounded by sweat; in a trembling Custer like voice he asked the guy if he were a USofA person.
Johnny jumped with excitement when the man replied:
"I'm a bloody Englishman. Sir! Not all of us have our bloody noses up your malignant cancerous arses like so and so has!"
"You were once our mother country! And we became like you blunders and all. And because you taxed us for past services like the French and Indian war and we thought if we could dump you guys we'd never have to pay taxes again."
"Are you quite all right?" the man said in his most vehement caste system tone; believing all were inferior to his kind who once dyed their bodies blue - becoming the sky.
Within minutes Johnny and Linda Ann were in a San Miguel Allende cab and so excited he was in getting the snot-nosed Englishman to talk and divulge a place of sleep out of town, he didn't realize his front seat tilted so much that he was leaning so far backward that he could see Linda Ann from ankle to head.
Getting out of the cab just in front of the very nice looking hotel surrounded by many trees, Johnny bent to get the suitcases but on the upswing he could not manage to get back into an erect position.
He whispered painfully for Linda Ann to get a room and not to worry about the price as he had been before.
Linda Ann came back in five minutes telling him it was thirty-five dollars.
He nodded and smiled and began his hunch back of Notre Dame walk not able to see the smile playing on Linda Ann's face.
Sea to Shining Sea by Jerry Vilhotti
Situated near a bay across from an island where
Burt Lancaster an East Harlem kid as the "Birdman"
once did a universal howl beneath steep hills that
plunged toward waters that were to become grave
fields for seals and dolphins in a deep depression
that daily wrestled with air currents of great magnitudes
of velocity stood a ballpark where once a for real game,
stolen from a people who once painted their bodies blue
led by one who disowned his own people making innocence
give off their universal howl of pain and loss to please another
called the Shrub Man who had contempt for humanity,
was played by a team that left The Big Apple for greener
pastures to the left coast, from April to sometimes October
frolicking among winds that howled like the cries of all those
abandoned wearing hearts of gray and shadowed uniforms
while holding candles to the darkness: ten minutes of seeing
with the eyes of Oedipus, five minutes of hearing with no ears
and a minute away of becoming a dead dead memory.