In a small snow covered village in the Shaanxi Province in central China an elderly man in his cabin sat at a small wooden table methodically pealing cloves of garlic. His fingers nails were covered in brown dirt from cutting wood and purple skin from the garlic.
On the crooked table there were two porcelain bowls, the first was filled with a steaming, spicy vegetable broth and the latter had four cloves of recently peeled garlic resting inside.
A small fire cracked away in the corner of the cabin, frost covered the windows and vapour poured out of the old man’s mouth as he breathed. The man in question had a small white moustache and a shaved bald head that was covered with wrinkles.
The man picked up a clove of garlic and chucked it into his mouth where he crunched it between his strong teeth. He picked up his warm bowl of broth and took a long slurp. He then placed the bowl back down and repeated the ritual until both bowls were totally empty.
The freezing wind rattled the frosted window pains while the old man shut his ancient eyes and rested.
editors note: You know what they say about "a clove a day…" - mh clay
The bus bumps, glides, grinds, turns, twists and climbs.
My eyes open and look at the liver spots on the back of an old mans head.
My eyes open and I gaze into a small red light that reminds me of HAL.
My eyes open and I gaze at mountains, rivers, small towns and a lonely boy walking with a cat on the side of the road.
I close my eyes and see two voluptuous Chilean women caressing each other.
I close my eyes and watch myself sleeping.
editors note: Mind's eye as tour guide. "I've still got the greatest enthusiasm and confidence in the mission." - mh clay
My brain is thumping.
My face is burning.
My mustache has frozen over.
My thighs feel like slabs of marble.
My body feels like it is being stabbed by 1001 daggers.
But then I see a sign! A fat white cat is sleeping next to a window inside a cafe. I run in and drink three cups of hot green tea.
They all very slowly come back to life.
editors note: An ancient formula for rejuvenation. At -19, add 3 to 206; reduce 1001 to zero. - mh clay
Strong Assam with wild tigers
Murky Green and an old lazy panda
Refreshing Darjeeling while watching a movie by Wes Anderson
Delicate Jasmine with the rising sun
Sweet fennel, mediating afternoons
Powerful peppermint in a foggy hilltop town
Sitting on a lonesome mountaintop while drinking tea with Jack Kerouac
editors note: Delightful sips for six days o' bliss. Pick a seventh; Keemum, Yunnan Golden or Silver Yin Zhen Pearls - see who comes with... - mh
sheets of milky mist caress the steep, winding hills.
decrepit seafront homes are inhabited by 18th century ghosts.
xxxxxxxA lonely cigarette butt dances down a side street with
xxxxxxxthe help of a gust of sea breeze.
Seagulls in congress talking about the night before.
A pack of street dogs eating breakfast together in a desolate square.
xxxxxxxMildew collects on top of an empty beer can.
Valparaiso in the morning!
editors note: A familiar sight the world over for midnight marauders caught after sunup. - mh
Her golden hair
Smells of cinnamon.
I am transfixed by her soft skin.
She holds my hand.
Our fingers connect like
She whispers into my left ear,
her lime blossom perfume glides up my nose.
The crowded bar that we are in suddenly
bursts into green flames. I see and hear
No one apart from the woman sitting in front of me.
I am inside a vacuum of a green haze,
Surrounded by the aromas
Of lime blossom, cinnamon
And the sweet pungent feminine smell
Of a woman.
editors note: This one packs the harshest hangover. If you're going to sustain it, inhale eternally. - mh
Torrents of whisky wash away the flavour of nicotine.
Smoke hangs in the air, men drink at a rum soaked bar.
The floor glows like liquid silver from spilt beer.
A match is lit, the flame moves like mercury.
Charlie Parker and Louis Armstrong play jazz throughout the bar.
A mature woman drinks an elegant martini, she plays with the
green olives as her blond hair dances to the groove.
A man in the corner chews on a cocktail stick, the aroma of sweet
perfume and musky cologne lingers in the air.
A saxophone is played in the toilet.
Drums beat to the beatniks.
A man in a purple hat flips a coin.
Heads or tails?
Heads or tails?
Shots of gin are swallowed, rivers of Smoky bourbon flow,
men with goatees and women with custard coloured berets kiss and flirt.
The cool dames and the crazy cats swing all night long.
Sitting in an old brown leather chair
Tom Waits writes another
cool jazz song.
editors note: Happening in a bar near you - join in, call it Holiday Cheer. Santa brings aspirin with the egg nog! - mh