Kerouac Rules For Spontaneous Prose #11

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Visionary tics shivering in the chest

Moth to flame, my eyes linger on the spectrum of gold, red, amber fluttering, sun-kissed, from the trees in your mother’s back-garden. I stand there in her kitchen– Aureolin painted around the window framing the living autumn scene just without. I stand in front of you, sipping on a proper cup of tea which you ritualistically bestowed on me. As you smile, my heart quickens and I realise that there are more seasons between us than a little. So many degrees of experience and inexperience that go unclaimed as two very new souls try this life out for the very first time.

I had been far too lonesome before. Home being thousands of miles away and with little hope of going back, I had long since given up the hope that I would belong anywhere. But there is so much brightness in this room. And the blue in your eyes rival the Texas sky. And here in the grey of autumn day, you sliced a piece of heaven for me and soothed my vagrant heart.

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About A. E. Wallace aka [EL] Selkie

Ann Wallace holds a degree from the University of Texas at El Paso in Mass Communications and minored in Creative Writing. She worked at the NBC Affiliate Newschannel9 in El Paso, was a journalist for the El Paso Diocese Catholic Newspaper, held writing workshops with The Tumblewords Project, performed as a Slam Poet and published poetry in small literary magazines. She is now an ex-pat in the UK where she lives, knits, games, works and writes. View all posts by A. E. Wallace aka [EL] Selkie

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