A.G.E's Joint

Where are the places silence goes ? Places to escape the shock of real Looking to be healed. The stalled car spoke to him while he trailed an elk, as it did to any who passing by. Its existence here was a profanity to all the wilderness stood for. A poster child to the world of greed and cruelty.  The same one that used him, spitting the empty husk like a dormant seed. And the wilderness accepted him as one of its own, allowing regrowth before his returning to dust. The buck jumped twenty feet into a shifting snow shelf. He sighed and realized no meat today. No way to follow without a collapse.The sun was getting dangerously close to the opposite ridge. Night will be coming soon. Looking back to the metal ghost. It would make good cover for the night and maybe there will be some supplies. As was his habit, he looked both up and down the ridge for tracks. There were none and he approached. The gray silhouette contrasted with the back lit snow. White eyebrows adorned edges of

The black Benz made the turn into the garage, its driver mildly irritated. How did he get roped into this trip? The plan was to soak in the hot tub until 12 and do some golf. But, no. Martha called and said her car was in the shop again and she needed a ride to some book event. All she did was read books and write poetry. Even the law practice was changed to represent authors, rather than industrial patents. It was a new challenge, dealing with real humans and their problems versus manager’s profit and loss statements.   He found her standing on the curb chatting with the Concierge. A blue peacock covered dress covered the petite frame. With a hat to match, she looked like something out a movie. It made Jerry wish he had the convertible. He pulled up next to her and got out with the engine still running. Light on his feet , he opened the door for his lady. Smiling broadly at him, she slid onto the tan leather. With a prim swivel, sandals cleared the door. Jerry returne

No story this week.   Yeah, I know. It's disappointing when a topic just doesn't lend itself to a riveting tale of crime and romance. You would think I would be able to take a woman of history and spin some fantastic tale of rescue or some such. Do I look like some kind of superhero? Or, I could write about my wife, Kathryn and how we met. It wasn't like I was on the Stairway to Heaven. She was dating my best friend, then called me out of the blue several years after they broke up. We were birds on a wire, ready settle down and that was it. That was thirty years ago.   Thirty years? Great Scott! And it isn't even a tender subject like a lot of my friends from high school. They time warped from one relationship to another. And now I am at an age where some of them are like Fast Eddie. Of course,  that could spin some sad tales of fallen women... Women who behaved badly...   And made history. Eh, I'm rambling. Where are my meds? ~

Barry White and Lisa Stansfield bubbled out of the sound system, the up beat tempo beckoning the grazing flock to graze the commercial manna laid before them. Fancy frocks draped elegantly across impossibly proportioned mannequins. Sparkly, overpriced trinkets behind glass cases. Everything in the tableau designed to encourage wallets to emerge and cash to disappear. Kari smiled.It was no different than any art gallery, look admiringly but don't touch. A place where ideas were birthed and raised. It had been a trying day and this was her therapy. Her pace matched the music and she was ready for a sensory overload. The Fragrance Bar with its booths of sublet spaces, spanned the wide mall opening. The aisles of the store were laid out so no shoppers could escape the pitches and smells. She shrugged. Perfume wasn't her bag, but it was a good appetizer for spring dresses and hats. Leaning on the counter to her left was a pale, petite woman dressed all in black. Upon seeing h