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IN THE AFTER-TIME " Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet ground in all her life; " It was somewheres near Roswell 18 something and something there or there...abouts & Billy the Kid & the boys have just ...paused: in their croquet for a tintype photo. Billy's the guy in the cardigan sweater. Him & his gang ( the Regulators ) are posing like they were a prototype for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers or the band THE BAND. Pure Americana. Billy the cardi-cowboy and his gang of croquet playing outlaws... Not exactly how one would have somehow imagined them . . .passing the time. One of the outlaw...eh...gentlemen points out that Billy " . . .the Kid has spooned his shot!" A ricochet of tobacco coloured spittle hits a spittoon. Silence congeals about the accusation. Now, whether Billy has merely pushed the ball silently through rather than soundly hit it is: neither here nor there. A cold revolver clicks & "I says I hit it...I hit it get it?" The other gentleman outlaw begs to agree. "Ok, Billy boy...keep yer cardi on!" And so, we leave them there in the croquet craze of 1878. Time like a yellow ball hit through hoop after hoop until: it arrives at this present...NOW! And a photo found in a store for a dollar or a few dollars more repays the expense by morphing into the 5 million dollar photo. But I hit the ball back through hoop after hoop after hoop until it arrives back at Billy's boot. And a voice cries: "Ok, kid...play!"
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Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
IN THE AFTER-TIME
IN THE AFTER-TIME " Alice thought she had never seen such a curious croquet ground in all her life; " It was somewheres near Roswell 18 something and something there or there...abouts & Billy the Kid & the boys have just ...paused: in their croquet for a tintype photo. Billy's the guy in the cardigan sweater. Him & his gang ( the Regulators ) are posing like they were a prototype for Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers or the band THE BAND. Pure Americana. Billy the cardi-cowboy and his gang of croquet playing outlaws... Not exactly how one would have somehow imagined them . . .passing the time. One of the outlaw...eh...gentlemen points out that Billy " . . .the Kid has spooned his shot!" A ricochet of tobacco coloured spittle hits a spittoon. Silence congeals about the accusation. Now, whether Billy has merely pushed the ball silently through rather than soundly hit it is: neither here nor there. A cold revolver clicks & "I says I hit it...I hit it get it?" The other gentleman outlaw begs to agree. "Ok, Billy boy...keep yer cardi on!" And so, we leave them there in the croquet craze of 1878. Time like a yellow ball hit through hoop after hoop until: it arrives at this present...NOW! And a photo found in a store for a dollar or a few dollars more repays the expense by morphing into the 5 million dollar photo. But I hit the ball back through hoop after hoop after hoop until it arrives back at Billy's boot. And a voice cries: "Ok, kid...play!"
donall-dempsey
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donall-dempsey
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 5:29 PM UTC
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