Franky
He shuffled his feet in front of her as she stared at her phone
Droning on with one of her halting and absent minded lectures,
And frankly he couldn’t remember the last time he actually listened to any of them.
I mean really, who would?
Certainly not Franky!
The Inconceivable Franky!
He didn’t really know what inconceivable meant
But he heard someone say it in a movie
With a boat and a dread pirate
And he liked the ring of it.
He liked boats and pirates.
There was an interesting dichotomy in his mind
Concerning pirates. (among other things)
He knew he loved pirates.
But … there were certain times
When pirates were bad.
And honestly, that was quite alright with him.
It made perfect sense.
She was wrapping up her talk with the usual
Mild gestures and apathetic glances
Accompanied by the familiar raising and lowering of tones
Ending with a calm lull
But Franky was already out the door.
At a dead run he bounded off the steps
Over the bushes, giving a quick glance,
And took to the skies momentarily
As the harried rush and tumble
Faded to a murmer behind him.
He couldn’t risk attracting too much attention, though
So he eased himself back down…
legs spinning so fast they blurred beneath him.
The circle they made started to squish and mush
As his raw determination and natural ability
Took control and molded it to his will.
Franky always knew.
Somewhere deep inside where everything came together
That he could fly
He could stretch himself thin
Conjure the wind or a storm
Do something crazy to his body
Where his molecules vibrated and jiggled around
That allowed him to fit in tight places
Get through openings no living being ever thought possible
And anything else that happened to come to mind
He knew.
And so it was.
And, unbeknownst to everyone, so it would always be.
This day was no different than the rest.
Franky rambled round the corner,
Before shapeshifting into a butterfly
Just for an instant
Because he loved feeling the slight breeze take over.
That having been done,
With a wink and a blink
If you can imagine a butterfly winking and blinking
In a twist of quantum entanglement where he once wasn’t, he now was,
Appearing as though he had just been on the other side
Of a shady tree in the shimmery heat
Doing whatever it is
People assume you were doing
Behind that shady tree
In shimmering heat.
Little did they know that shade
Shimmering heat
And many other things in the world
Worked as a sort of transit system for Franky.
Remember the large oak tree in your backyard
When you were a child
With that peppered shadow
Shaken all over the ground?
Perhaps, but do you remember …
The pattern in that pepper shaken shadow?
Shadows slosh in a paisley pattern
As unique as you or I
That acts as a mark,
That specific place’s fingerprint in the cosmos.
And Franky just so happened to have an eye for
Paisley patterns
And cosmic fingerprints.
It isn’t quite so simple as it sounds
But to Franky it was as normal as remembering
That the number 4 bus took you to the candy store
The number 18 took you downtown
And the 20 brought you home
From almost anywhere you might find yourself
(Oddly enough)
Slowing to a saunter from the shady shadow
The Inconceivable Franky
Came upon another
His Mark
The man he was to seek out
Casually, as though swatting at some something
They both knew didn’t exist
He waved his hand in front of his face in a rather eloquent manner,
Bowed ever so slightly to acknowledge him,
Gave the man some paper and a little dirt
And told him to do his worst.
(To which he grunted and shrugged)
Wherein Franky thanked him graciously for his cooperation
And smiled after the man
as he hustled and trundled his way back
Inside
Away from the heat.
Pausing just 2
Maybe 3 moments
After being left alone
Franky rocked back
Spun on his left heel towards the tree …
Continued to spin, making a full pirouette
Leaving himself at an acutely odd angle with the ground
(or oddly obtuse depending on your perspective)
and, maintaining that angle, slinked around behind the building …
(As inconspicuously as slinking allows)
He sat for a moment in the cool hushed silence of solitude.
This was the moment in each day he both reveled in,
And relished,
And dreaded with all his being.
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