f a c e t o f a c e
Back when we were growing, back when we were children, there came a fashion about going to the Ash Forest late at night. Real late, we would climb from our two story bungalows and sneak through the neighborhood to meet Rick but also Timm.
The fashion was like this:
You get to the old Ash Forest; You get past the ruins which are so very different in the dark time. You cover yourself with sap, get syrupy. You cover yourself up to the eyes.
There you wait till you lose your forest chill and soon you’ll be free to see things true as they are.
In school you heard everybody talk about it, Rick more than most.
So I got through the Ash Forest by climbing over those half buried stone buildings and scraped my top foot from a bramble.
Later on, we’re covered in the sap. We’re maybe on our knees. Timm starts to shake. Timm looks sticky, but Rick looks yellow and bright. Rick turns clear as plastic wrap. Rick is a floating orb. Clean as he is, I’m still forest cold and wishing I wasn’t. Behind what was once Rick and Timm is the overwhelming starry night. In my buzz I watch it, but it is not all that I see.