© 2019

 Adam Petke

       Present Day

 

    Still in the Present Day when Sandal Claus is coming. Gifts and life to be given so freely all from the birth of Sandal Claus’ girth.

 

Purddy: Such a sleepy little creature in the cool morning air twitching and leaping without any care. He runs so fast without any legs but that doesn’t keep him down. He is nature in the image of man bred to the highest standards of common denominators. He is a bolt of lightning from under the porch, his teeth and his smile, sizzling in the shadows in hope for Sandal Claus’s visit. By the wet parts dripping where the bees get so thirsty.

 

    Time to make Honey, sleepy little creature in the cool morning air.

 

    Still in the silence ice music sings. Crisp leaves chime the music of what the Big Sweaty Man brings.

 

Jerff: Such a dumpy little Dunkle who stirs in the seat where his skin is weaving sticks and twists. He speaks without a voice always hoping, always doubting, no one calls on the holidays. He is man detached from it all and left attached to his chair. Created by screams and a fear of nothing there. His eyes blink at a grit-scratch pace of lifeless affects in the reflected visions a burning bush held captive in its deathbed. The smell of a Jerffy Dunkle, sour and heavy and he’s got the itches beckoning the arrival of the Fat Man’s sack.

 

    Time to watch the Honey, dumpy little Dunkle stirring in his skin.

 

    Still in this moment the hot hole breathes. Sparks shoot brightly a hopefully blinding light for Daddy’s Present to visit tonight.

 

Marffa: Such a sad little womb with blistered feet bleeding in the sharpest place of floor.  All the screams softly subtle just behind her ears with boils, and steam, and molten meat just behind the door. A journey of want and the lack of lonesome to a place with faces and excuseless love. Landed with a scar jagged down the arm, a broken goal, and handful of ribbons. With hands of time just needing bread the sad little womb is full of crumbs.

 

    Time to touch the Honey, sad little womb wanting it back.

 

    Still in the hearts the emptiness cries. Whimpers hallow and echoed in chat just waiting for the bellow of The Greasy Man’s laugh.

 

The Litter: Such a hungry little litter growing in size stretching and screaming and scratching their eyes.  The trumpets of heaven where the ears doth bleed and dinner plates break on the hearts of stone children. No presents this year so we all give kisses. What more could you want than the Gift from the god. Born into being with little to choose except a place where the floors are crumbling and the sky has bleached white.

 

    Time to eat the Honey, hungry little litter born just to die.

 

    Still in the minds the dreams climb high. Steps fading in the haze of the bleached white sky reaching and stretching to the Old Fuck’s grip.

 

Sandal Claus: Such a happy old giant with long knotted arms. He grabs the first rung and starts to climb down to the hearts of the ones holding faces in hands. Long twisty legs with too many knees and barefeet curled each downward step by step. Built as a God to bring each their own with eyes deep and wide and tools as hands to work through the night.

 

    Time to collect the Honey, happy old giant bearing the weight of desire.

 

    Still in arrival the anticipation is crawling. The twitch of a flower that smells of glass but before a petal hits the ground Sandal Claus is here at last.

 

    Purddy flashes bright to the Gifting God’s delight. There’s no more running tonight. The Honey is ready selected with thoughts and with a gust of heavy lungs Sandal Claus filled the room. His top touched the ceiling and his cracked toenails scratched the floor. Reaching inside and tearing out parts one for each piece to put in their mouths. For Jerff some skin for Marffa a heart, for the litter new toes and for Purddy some bones. Then the grand gesture, open hand, asking for Honey in return. Just one of the Litter the one that was clearly not going to last. Sandal Claus opened wide and inside one went and Sandal Claus followed behind.

 

    In a flash he was gone leaving a puddle of wet where the Litter all frolliced and Purddy frothed with sweat. Jerff squirmed in joy and Marffa stopped to breathe as laughs were played and dances were made. What a grand Present Day this has been. ​​