Mind tricks

GOING, GOING

 

The trolley is silent. Its metal wheels cease turning at 10 p.m. As usual most of Eastern Ave. has gone  beddy bye. I love this time of night. Knowing I am wide awake, I welcome fantasy dreams to float thru my mind. Sunbeams calm my turquoise sea. From the deck of the Santa Nuevo I see two large turtles paddling with determination to race the ship. They barely move and disappear in the bubbles.

 

My eyes pop, open so wide I fear they may fall out of my head and drop in the ocean. I quiver, consider blindness when I see a huge, smooth-skinned monster fish jump up high and fall with a tremendous splash back into the water. It rolls over, submerges and comes back followed by another monster that may be his friend. Together they swim close, very close to the ship. I call to them to move away but they stay their course. My eyes remain riveted on them. A third one rises, trails the two by merely inches. It is a parade without banners, whistles. I am entranced. A roar of the wind is loud, strong. It chases the dragon away and my ship leaves too.

 

The noise is not the wind. It is the slamming of our front door when my father comes home from his weekly poker game. He babbles at the top of his lungs words I don't know, don't want to know. Before he gets to the top of the stairs my mother is already cussing my dad. 'Shut up! Shut up! I think you and your nasty mouth already woke Donald.' She can't see me hiding under my blanket like I always do when he goes on a toot. Muffled sounds come from their bedroom once they calm down.

 

My mood is lousy. Fantasies, hopes, die as the silence tries to work its magic again. An odor, not a very nice one, crawls across my floor, reaches the legs of my bed and makes its home next to me. I sniff this way and that way trying to recognize it and wham, I do! It is a horse, a beautiful roan. Its long golden mane blows over its deep brown eyes. They are like saucers of molasses. This horse is going to win the Kentucky Derby for sure. The crowd roars as the horses break from their stalls. Dust flies, hides who is in front. My bet is on Jackie Boy to be the big winner. Loud noises break up the race. My parents are arguing again. I yell to Jackie Boy. 'Move, move!'  The same words become reality. My father is telling my mother to move, move her ass, to stop being a piece of wood.

 

It is time to let my eyes close, my mind rest. The metallic  sound of the trolley's wheels wake me at 6 a.m. All of my dreams have gone. My father and mother are arguing at the kitchen table and I pull my blanket all the way over my head and plan to ride home from school on the clickety, clackety trolley.