dos hombres

        Brother Ambrose tackled Scoop and they crashed onto Sonya Chekov's black shellacked Japanese teatable. The newsman was heavier than the preacher, so he was able to roll on top and pin his friend to the carpet. Both widowers laughing like magpies.
        "Ziggy!"
        "Artie!"
        "Motherfuckers!" Sonya shouted from the doorway. "The fuck ya done to my table?"
        Sheepishly they surveyed the damage.
        Like a doofus ER intern giving prognosis on roadkill, Brother Ambrose replied, "Oh, it'll be fine. Gorilla Glue can fix it."
        "Goddamn it, Ambro! That's classic furniture!"
        Scoop straightened up, knees popping. "The two of us will take care of it."
        Sonya began to cry.
        "Oh, babe," Brother Ambrose cooed. "I'm sorry. Real sorry. We'll make good on it."
        "Get out! The two of you. Get out!"


                                                                                         *


         Coffee and apple pie at Frenchie's. Old friends. Just like Simon and Garfunkle.
         Scoop asked first, "What brought you here?"
         "Wandering. Just wandering. My new life began at Sweet Creek Falls. Left Ziggy behind and ended up in Eugene. Met a fine old woman there. Then the Skell Van began to whinney and knicker, telling me it was time to hit the road. Wow, far out, this is too much!"
         "Yeah man." Scoop paused, wondering how to begin his story. All the years at Lotus Land, the K'lid K'iyass, Kelly Alabama, Leah. "Many years, many trails."
         Saddle pals.

       
   

celestial marriage 3

        A prairie moon opened like a Spanish abanico. Tannhauser sat close to Artie's campfire, thumbing through an old book. Artie had draped his bedroll upon the dry earth and stretched out, boot toes describing a lazy dihedral.
        "He was an angel." Artie said. "A flesh and blood angel."
        "Jah. I haf heard of such."
        "If we'd not been witness, I'd say nonsense!"
        "Jah, nonsense." Absorbed in his reading.
        "What book is that?"
        "Enoch."
    

        The transfiguration of Leah's corpse defied everything in Artie's  known world. Within moments she became a thing of pure light, and as she passed on, the strange young man with raven hair and eyes of burning obsidian stood guard. It was so Bibical.  A hallucination of some sort, Artie thought all the while.


         


                                                                                      *


           Celestial Brother handed Artie his beloved Engagement Stone. A relic left behind.  "Keep this while you live."
           Artie blinked. Hoarsely he replied, "I will."
           Tannhauser announced from the doorway. "Mein Gott! This is sorcery!"
           "It is that," agreed Leah's guardian. Packing his brawn,  he strode into the crashing night.


                                                                               *


            There would be no return to Bountiful.
          
        

celestial marriage 2

         Artie captured a room on the verge of combustion. Ozone and the coppery scent of ventilated blood slammed him backward. Leah's eyes gazed forth from a petrified face, contorted in death. Evidently she had suffered a stroke during one of her Mystery Bleeds.
           "NO-o-o-o!" The howl of a thousand suns breaking.
           The beatific  man grappled with Artie with the strength of many. "Don't touch her! Not yet!"
            "You monster! What have you done?"
            Once more Artie moved toward the bed, and once more the man in the frontier butternut shirt prevailed, throwing Artie to the floor. A heavy boot slammed down.
            Tannhauser clubbed Artie's adversary with a split log. "Verdamnt!"
            Then he helped his young friend and they went outside to the truck.
            "Oh, my God, Otto! She's dead!"
            "Jah." Suddenly Tannhauser seemed winded. He sat down in the grass. Ashen.
            Artie handed him a beer. "Hang tough, old timer. I'm going back in."
             Inside the room, he felt composed. The man with raven hair and eyes of burning obsidian stood akimbo, full of sorrow.
              "Who are you?" Artie's voice steeled his own mind.
              "I am her Celestial Brother."
              "I don't quite understand."
              "You knew she was different. You must have!"
              Leah's body subtly grew illuminated with an inner light, her flesh the delicate hue of the hibiscus rose of sharon.



   

celestial marriage 1

         A peyote sun spun like a Fatima event behind Tannhauser's truck. Artie was anxious to reach lilac home. It was pink twilight as they pulled close. The last rays caused the field stone house to gleam like a gold tooth. Artie suddenly felt deep love for old spread.
         "You know, Mister Geist. I don't know your first name."
         "Oh jah. It's Otto."
         "Pleased to know you, Otto."
         "Schon!"
         Artie leaped from the truck. He could hardly contain himself, shouting, "Leah! We're here!"
          It was like meeting a shade from the Underworld. The young man strode from the doorway and grasped Artie's hand. Long raven hair, burning obsidian eyes. Reminding Artie of an angelic Jim Morrison.
          "Who are you? Where is my wife?"
          Frozen behind the steering wheel, Tannhauser watched wordlessly.
          "Come inside," commanded the beatific man garbed like a teamster from Nauvoo.
          Artie followed, passing through the lilac. "I ASKED you WHERE is my WIFE?"


           Loading the Indian for their ride from Bountiful, Artie noticed that Leah had chosen only three books to take with her into the unknown.
           Most prized was an edition of combined scripture leather-bound with a zipper. It contained the King James and the Book of Mormon, along with Doctrine and Covenants and The Pearl of Great Price. A hefty tome, well-worn and rain-stained. Then there was Parley Pratt's "Key to the Science of Theology." And for entertainment: a paperback "Dune."
          "That's it?"
          "Travelling light, my love.
          "I was afraid you'd want to take along everything you owned."
          "Saints are practical and willing to sacrefice. Remember what I told you of Nauvoo."
          "I do."
          " Parley Pratt was one of the original Quorum of Twelve Apostles. My copy is old and unrevised. It contains his thoughts on polygamy. Eventually he was murdered by an Arkansas man who swore Parley had stolen his family."
           "He was at Nauvoo?"
           "Yes. When Brigham said they must leave behind their earthly fortunes, the Saints did so. Parley Pratt led his party along the Mormon Trail."
            Artie embraced her and she felt his arousal.
            "Oh, now we're getting horny," Leah laughed. "Buy me a Pepsi."
            "Mormons aren't allowed Pepsi."




           





           


                                                                                              


 

sightings

         Artie filled the gas cans. As the fuel spurted, its fragrance reminded him of Papa telling him never to inhale fumes. The antique glass-walled pump refracted the tall sunlight. Overhead the sky appeared to be a limitless eggshell dome. He wondered what Leah was up to.
          Inside the bar he found the Geist brothers seated at Friedrich's office table discussing the latest UFO sightings. They seemed to know just what the phenomena truly was. Word was that MUFON had dispatched a field investigator. They were getting their stories straight. He was amazed how quickly he had sobered up.
         "Jah, Artie," Tannhauser said. "Sit down. Setzin!"
         "You guys are serious about this stuff?"
         "It is all true," Friedrich affirmed. "People all around here have seen things."
         "What people? You're out in the middle of nowhere."
         "We think it is the Tesla," Tannhauser announced. "Little gray men? Nein!"
         "Well, I have to admit," Artie replied. "That light bulb was pretty amazing. Earth energy. Far  fucking out."
          They all laughed.
          "Vell, vee must roll if vee get back by nightfall," Tannhauser grunted.
          "Yeah," Artie agreed. To Friedrich he said, "Nice meeting you, Sir."
          The Cowboy Kraut grinned, and to Artie it almost seemed that the old man's boots clicked together in salute.



                                                                                  *


           They had driven about a mile when Tannhauser stopped. He climbed out and looked backward toward Friedrich's place. Artie did too. Above the Last Chance were two and then three seed fluffs drifting skyward. It was plain they were not organic, but electical. Faintly visible against the sapphire sky.
            "I'll be damned," Artie said. Astonished.
            "Jah, at night you should see them!"

lilac wine

         Leah felt the presence of a man. He was sitting on the bed. The weight of him shifted toward her and a breeze touched her forehead. She opened her eyes and saw that he was quite handsome. His butternut shirt was of the ancient frontier.
         "How are you, Leah?"
         "Who are you? Oh--" Hangover pain stabbed her brain.
         "I thought so," her stranger chuckled.
         She sat up slowly and looked around the room. Oddly the first thing she noticed was the wine rack. Tannhauser's home-made lilac wine. In mason jars. The thought of wine caused her to vomit. Floor splatter.
          "Oh, God--"
          "It's fine. I'll clean it up."
          His hair was long and black as a raven's wing. His eyes were burning obsidian.
          "Who are you?"
          "A friend."
          "Please, don't hurt me."


                                                                                           *


          The dream had the sonorous power of a Bach organ. It lifted her from the bed and carried her outside where there was a garden. Wild rose, honeysuckle, wisteria and Virginia creeper. Rampant. Wind-rushed.
           She was delivered unto an abundance of sweet grass.
           In the midst of this dream her face was frozen into glass.
           Artie, my love. Help me. Help me!