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                            Journey to Sxtlan

                          by Vivian Darkbloom

Synapse Achtung!

   Beside a garden wall, I watched the wisteria gently dripping
   purple petals in the gentle breeze. Running my fingers lightly
   across the mossy stones of the wall next to me, sensing every
   particle of the rough porous surface. Each tiny microscopic
   crater in the miniature moonscape, as motes of dappled sunlight
   played on my face and hands, sun drenched was the landscape
   beyond. unbearable, the brilliance.

   The walkman energetically piped the exuberant tones of Sly and
   Family Stone into my ears. "I wanna take you higher! I wanna take
   you higher!"

   A voice or sense inside of me spoke of my destiny, around the
   corner, green the leaves, and blades of emerging spring grass
   with their mysterious shadows.

   I snapped the "stop" button, and heard gay shrieking peals of
   laughter carried like feathers on the breeze, like the down of
   dandelions, seeding wicked weeds in the pristine suburban lawn of
   my soul.

   Pristine. An exemplary example of Suburban Normalcy. Truly. At
   some point in distant memory, kept immaculately trimmed by a
   sparkling lawnmower and positioned with one of those plexiglass
   patio tables in a smokey ripple pattern, with cheap metal
   reclining chairs and a tacky pink umbrella, at the center a
   chilled inviting glass of iced lemonade offering relief from the
   noonday sun. All destined soon to be brought to desolate ruin by
   the wicked seedy down of dandelions.

   Sighing, I followed the peals of laughter that rippled like
   dandelion down from around the edge of the ancient wall.

   Dare I consider what dark evil might lie around such a bend in
   space? Out of sight, out of history. I could turn back the
   hourglass to the illumined highways of righteousness -- or could
   I? Destiny!

   Revelation slid into view from behind the ancient barrier, as the
   edge pulled away like one side of a curtain opening to reveal the
   two girls beyond, my breath leapt like a frog into my heartbeat:
   the younger, now fully clothed, was none other than my own
   precious hummingbird, my partner in the night of the mosaic!

   So tragically had we been parted, or perhaps only diverted, by
   the gothic encounter necessitated by the obligation to score a
   bag of buds for my buddies. And now here we were, reunited in a
   unison of union!

   She sat with a large drawing pad facing me, gigantic in
   proportion to her tiny dimensions. Before her, between us (and
   with her back turned to me) was my sweetheart's likeness in
   college-aged form, clad simply as she had been the moment she had
   emerged from the warm womb, thrust into the harshness of cold
   reality. A pile of garments told the tale of a careless
   disrobing.

   With her eyes, the younger one with the pad pointed me out to her
   sister, who turned her head and whooped with mock shame, making a
   phony effort to cover herself, upon seeing me.

   "We're doing art," said the older one, between shared giggles.
   "It's an assignment, really!"

   "Oh," I replied. "I'm experiencing a disturbing psychic awakening
   that jostles the core of my very being. "Mind if I join you?"

   "Oh, come on over. Now that you've seen me naked, what else is
   there to know?"

   Which wasn't entirely accurate, given that I hadn't seen every
   single part of her naked, though given the beauty of the parts
   that I had seen, I was looking sheepishly forward to the
   possibility of seeing the rest.

   Timidly, I wandered over to sit beside my beautiful hummingbird,
   my petite young ex-lover, whom I had given up for lost. Bright
   clear eyes gazed up at me from where she sat on the grass.

   "Are you. . .?" I began.

   She nodded solemnly, shifting her buttocks erotically on the
   ground. And here she was, plain as day, soft skin luminous in the
   shade, silky strands, wisps of hair across her face and tiny
   lips. I studied the enticing curve of her cute little nose,
   altered in memory, and now in the new memory of this very moment,
   which readjusted my knowing of her nose.

   I sat down beside her, almost touching, and she leaned against me
   while she sketched, working herself into being cradled in my lap.
   I sensed the warm soft skin beneath her thin cotton shirt.

   "Can you forgive me for my errant Gothic phase?" I implored.

   She squirmed. "You mean with Ceridwyn and Kalisha?"

   I gulped, nodding. How could she possibly know?

   She grinned. "I had sex with them too. Aren't they the funnest?"

   The older sister, the art student (from a model's perspective)
   resumed her pose, facing at a sideways angle towards us, so I
   could distinctly with my eyes trace the profile outline of her
   naked breasts.

   As the younger one drew, each line, I felt I was touching her
   sister through her, caressing each gracious curve of her lithe
   body, limbs so brazenly exposed to nature and daylight.

   Magnetized, I drank in silence the swishing of charcoal on paper,
   the music of the clean whiteness, blank and ready as she spread
   the delicious lines of feminine form across it. Caressing,
   loving, that sent shivers of delight through me.

   "So, Mr. Psychic Awakening, if you're psychic, then can you tell
   me what I'm thinking about right now?"

   I hesitated. "Sex," I said.

   Both of them erupted into another round of giggles. "Whoa! You're
   really amazing! How'd you guess?"

   I shifted uncomfortably. "Also," I continued, "The clear green
   bar of glycerine soap that you were worried you might have left
   in the shower instead of putting it back in your locker? Well,
   don't worry, because you put it back."

   Her smile turned to a frown. "Hey! How did you know that?!"

   "Psychic Awakening," I replied. "And also, your cat, Lionheart at
   home misses you very much, although at the moment he's preparing
   to spit up a medium-sized hairball on the white skirt you left
   lying over the edge of your bed."

   "You mean I forgot to --" she put her hand to her lips. "Why,
   that little -- except, my cat's name is Muffin, not Lionheart."

   "One moment," I said, and closed my eyes in concentration. Awhile
   later I opened them again. "Your cat is aware of the ridiculous
   appellation you have so rudely hung upon him, but he would like
   to inform you that his true name is Lionheart, Master of the
   night, Crier of Melodious Miaos, and Slayer of Bird and Small
   Rodent."

   She tossed her head, still posing. "That must be why he never
   comes when I call."

   "See?" I said. "There's a logical explanation for everything."
   Then I burst into sobs as the sheer ponderous weight of universal
   chaos and uncertainty weighed chaotically on my mind.

   "What is it?" the two girls cried as one.

   "Oh, the chaos," I moaned. "My mind has been torn asunder by
   psychedelic substances and I peer terrified into the gaping maw
   of the very firmament!!"

   "Sounds rough."

   "My brain burns like a sieve, and every stirring of idea or
   desire in each sentient awareness pours through it!"

   "Could be quite a strain. Hey, so you have, like access to stuff
   everyone is thinking? Even, like, teachers?"

   I nodded sadly.

   "Could I sit next to you during the chemistry final? Just
   wondering. I mean, if you're going to peer into the gaping maw,
   you may as well get some benefit out of it, you know what I
   mean?"

   My sweet little munchken shifted in my lap, giving rise to an
   altered seating terrain beneath her.

   "But there remains one remaining well of inky darkness in the
   dazzling fusillade of facts that now bombard every corner of my
   mind! A question which now torments me unanswered!"

   "What question?"

   "How come there are so many young girls around here nowadays?
   Isn't this a college? You're all supposed to be over 18!"

   They both laughed at me. My little one answered first. "It's
   Sister Visit Month."

   "Sister visit?"

   "Right," said the elder, "when girls invite their little sisters
   to come experience the wholesome intellectually invigorating
   environment which we call the university."

   "But mostly," chirped the younger, "we run wild and have a lot of
   sex."

   "It's very popular."

   "I can imagine," I replied.
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