Chris Skiles
So after a restful summer
Full of longing and reminisces
Earl got lonely in his cabin
And began to miss the Missus
So he flew Eagle back
Back to New York, NY public library (you know
the biggest).
He decided to get a job, to waste away the time
(Believe me. Money was the last thing on his
Mind) so he got a job as a ferryman
Working in New York Harbor
(This was a pretty easy job; he’d had
much harder).
He would take kids and people
to the Statue of Liberty. Then haul them back
for hardly a penny.
He mainly encountered
School field trips or birthday parties; there was one group
he thought quite hardy, and took a liking to.
They were predominantly young black boys
With a mother hen present; Earl liked them
for to him they were pleasant. One day a young black boy
With round John Lennon glasses
Asked Earl to tell a story (you know how slow time passes).
Earl said, rather robustly, getting sprayed from a swell:
“I don’t have one now, but next year I will.”
The boys nodded in consent, And Earl asked a question
Right before they went: “What is something
That ya’ll have never seen?” And they answered as one,” A farm in
the green!”
So a year passed, and it was a hot, cruel summer; the boys returned
A little less younger.
“Where’s our story?” the young one with glasses asked. Earl said it’s coming, a whole
year at last. “This is Barnyard Tale No. 1, the Goat’s Tale,” he said. And then he recited it out
loud, as if it were read: “Under a full moon, at the end of May (You could start to smell
the Farmer’s fresh cut hay) all the Barnyard Animals gathered. And the goat went on, or shall I say, rather blathered: ‘Once there was a wolf. He was the lead wolf of the pack. He helped lead
the wolves, to curb and cull
the weak and diseased of the caribou herd. It sounds rather cruel
But they are somewhat honest
shepherds. Now the lead wolf
began to get extra gray. ‘He is losing his touch,’
Some of the wolves began to say.
Finally, one day, the old wolf was challenged
to a match
The one fighting him
was healthy and fat. “You know
all my secrets,” the old wolf said. “If not for me you would
be dead.” “I don’t care,” the other wolf said. An pretty soon the old wolf
began to leak his red.” *gasp!* the farm animals cried. “Is it in such a cruel way
that the old wolf had to die?”
“Yes,” the big mama goat blathered. “His effort in teaching and leading the others
seemed not to matter. The old wolf taught them how to fight, how to kill when it mattered.
And they used all those skills he taught them
to make him bloody and splattered.”
Right now the ferry
was reaching its destination. The boys were somewhat shocked
but with a forgiving inclination.
“We’ll see you next year!” they all yelled at McSwagger. And he couldn’t help but redden
A little at their laughter.
And so a year passed, and another brutally hot summer. And once again
the boys returned, not getting any younger.
“Alright!” Earl yelled, as they left the dock. “I don’t want to hear any of ya’ll’s
Chitchat and talk.” Silence ensued, nothing to hear
but the lapping of the waves. And so Earl began
the second of his staves. “This is Barnyard Tale, No.2: The Duck’s Tale.” He cleared his throat.
“Under a full moon, at the end of June, the Barnyard animals all gathered. And so the Duck began his tale, like nothing else mattered: The Story of the Star: “Now, it is, I believe
A common misconception that lonely people die deceived. But when a truly lonely person dies, their heart all full of scars, they ascend to the heavens, and become a star. Now a star is many things, primarily being a mother
to the all the planets birthed out of her womb, some never even discovered. And gods these planets will become, slowly forming from the star’s formula young. And the star will watch
it’s incredibly angry son. The big bully Jupiter
Barely contained by taciturn Saturn. But one day, all the planets will die
being slowly drawn in, by the Sun’s gravity high. And everything the star worked and watched and created
Will slowly be dissipated
Until the whole family dies
Seen perhaps for the first time thousands of light years away
by hungry astronomers’ eyes. Yes. Like you and I.”
“Thus concludes the Duck’s Tale,” Earl McSwagger said. “So tell your moms you love them
before you go to bed.”
And so another year passed, and a brutally cold summer. The boys finally came back
wearing thick jumpers. The wind and water were cold that day, and all the boys were trying to avoid, the salty stinging spray. Some were in gangs now, some carried books. But Earl was not
dissuaded, by their more melancholy looks. “Now Shut Up!” he said, looking them all fully in the eye.
“I don’t even want to hear a pipsqueak
out
of
you guys. Here is the Barnyard Tale No.3, the concluding act. I know I told you there’d be more
But this is all I can come up with.” The boys were silent, huddled in their coats. Occasionally you could hear
the slap of wave on the boat. Some of the kids
were not even in school now, had gone on
And found jobs, or graduated. The little one with John Lennon glasses sat still, with total anticipation.
“Under the full moon, at the end of July, the Barnyard Animals gathered, the land
hot and dry. This is The Bull’s Tale. No. 3 concluding. It will be short and to the point; I am
alluding: Once there was a bull, who was brought up Strong and fine. The Spanish brought him
to America, the land divine. The bull was proud, and didn’t believe in god. I mean, why should I? he thought. It’d be rather odd.”
But one day the bull was turned loose
In a ring of a thousand fans
And he charged this well dressed
in gold a man he thought a fool. But the fool he became
The bull that is. And soon his back was full
of long little shives. These are picadors,” the bull says. “They drive them in your back and below the neck.”
The Barn animals were shocked, even the the grave Mr. Duck let out a quack.
“What the hell’s that story suppose to mean?” all the Barnyard Animals angrily asked.
“That life’s not fair,” kid in the glasses said. You could hear a pin drop, on the boat,
or the thoughts of the dead.
“What the hell was that, Earl?” one of the older kids angrily asked. He had a job at the market;
too much time had passed. As they all eased off the boat, maybe a few thoroughly disappointed
the kid in the glasses came up to Earl, his eyes upward pointed. “Tell me, Earl,” the boy said. pulling out his marbles. “What is the point of this dipshit garble?”
Earl looked down, as he tied back to the dock. It was time he was getting home now, past six o’clock. “I’ll tell you what, man. I’ll give you the secret to the riddle. It means be the lone wolf, kiddo. The lone wolf is mortally wounded. It just crawls off to
some cave on the side of a mountain, left to die. But the wolf is not eaten. You see kid, the point
of this dialogue is that the Farmer eats the animals, the Earth eats the farmer, the
Sun eats the Earth, the center of the Universe eats the sun. Don’t you get it, kid? We’re all fucking ate up. But not the wolf.” Earl wiped stinging spray out of his eye. “The wolf goes on and dies alone in a cave. Nobody eats him. Nobody buries him. He just dies alone, with honor. He doesn’t give a fuck. And that’s how you have to be, kid. That’s how you have to be.”
Earl skipped dinner and home
And having spent all this time
basically feeling alone
He hops back on the Eagle’s back
And flies back to his home
Past the Adirondacks
And hits the sack. And
Sleeps. Like a baby.