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The summer night beckons them
"come out and play"
The gargoyles watch in silence
and smile.

Ben sits on a wooden crate he rescued from the street
plucking aimlessly at the worn strings of his guitar.

Harry's dog (he has no name other than "Harry's dog"
lays claim to a spot on the stoop
licking at the reflective tape Harry seems to have an obsession for.
Mrs Graingers cat is glad he isnt a dog,
More specifically, glad he isnt Harry's dog, poor thing.

The blueberry bush offers its fruit.
Lush berries now food for wayward birds.
Jill is vocal in her disapproval.
No one cares for Jill much
with her hollow sounding wind chimes
and neatly parted hair.

Sweet melodies .
Fred has a new reed for his flute
and he offers up his contribution to the summer's beauty.

The one they all call "that strange girl" on the fire escape
takes inventory
and smiles up at the gargoyles.


She wasn't sure she should venture out this day.
The steel felt cold and unyielding under her foot.
It had always welcomed her before.

Arming herself with slippers resembling Yeti feet,
a Moroccan pillow and flea market find shawl,
she stepped out into her world.

The sun was barely awake
and it gave a wink
that gave a promise of surprises.

"One cannot write without reading, you know."
The Muse told her quietly.
Quietly because Mrs Graingers cat was napping on the sill above her.
"You can't tumble about like this.
It won't do at all."

"Well, it's not so much the reading I mind"
she replied.
"It's the words upon the page, you see.
They keep getting in the way."

"It's a simple enough thing to do, you know.
Just ignore the words and read."

"How silly of me to have forgotten that."
was all she could think to whisper.

The Muse just shook her head
pearching half way up the fire escape ladder
dangerously close to Mrs Graingers windows.
"In all my musings, I have never met one so stubborn
and forgetful as yourself.
California is looking better and better all the time.
Oranges are what I like best of all, you know."