do i dare?
Dangerously safe against plastered blue sky. my collar shouts in the wind, “no, turn back”, but curiosity always kills something.
Tiny hairs on back of my neck rising. 4 steps closer, 5, 6 without realizing it. I remove the lens and lay the camera back into its case, tuck it under my arm, in close. 12, 13 steps closer, I glance back seeing my distant starting point and car stalled in the road. Why didn’t I buy an extra tank of gas?
They must have gas at this farm house. Maybe I could make corn oil like ethanol, beloved hippie gas. No cars outside, not even tractors. How do they ever leave? Finally I reached the door, but I see no one, no lights or sign of life. Turn the handle, nothing, again, nothing, again and now this grandfather of a door groans and decides to open.
A bird prisoner flaps wildly before my face, out the door into the sky. cobweb hammocks hang from corners, old dusty nicknaks. A room untouched for years except a piano. sheetmusic sprawled, marked,clearly played.