Across the tracks from Clairvoyance

Across the tracks from Clairvoyance is Logic, a sedate town filled with navy blue outfits. The children are not dirty and never have visible scabs. They have to push buttons to get inside their driveways. The people there are very important. They drink clear specific drinks. Alcohol from bauhaus bottles with citrus garnish cut in the proper direction to form little wedges with no dangling bits of pith. The men have short hair, the boys have cowlicks, the girls wear pink ribbons, the women have highlighted bobs. The men where navy blue trousers, the women wear navy blue dresses, the boys wear blue peddle-pushers, the girls wear pink dresses without lace. The men go to work, the women go to work, the boys go to school, the girls go to school. There are no pets, but there are guard dogs.


No one from Logic works in Clairvoyance, and no one from Clairvoyance drives through Logic. Boundaries snake between the two towns: the train tracks, chain link fences, naturally-formed gullies, boulders. These boundaries are not insurmountable, but everyone in Logic assumes they know what lies in Clairvoyance and everyone in Clairvoyance trusts their instincts about avoiding Logic.


The children from Logic are forbidden to play with the children from Clairvoyance, but on Wednesday nights the brave ones float things to each other in the fountain. There have been town council referendum in both towns to have the fountain removed, but the maps in Clairvoyance list the fountain outside town boundaries, as do the maps in Logic. No one will claim responsibility for it.


The fountain sits on the top of a hill. It is made of stone and runs with water all year long. Even in winter, there is a trickle of warm water gurgling out of androgynous faces carved on all sides. No one has ever tested the depth of the fountain, but the water is deep enough and the basin is wide enough to form eddies that look like whirlpools to the smaller children. The water flows in a continuous circle.


On Wednesday, the adults in Logic are busy at their town council meetings followed by their bauhaus cocktail parties. On Wednesday the adults in Clairvoyance are busy building alters to various deities followed by their wine-soaked rituals. The children of both towns sneak down one by one, each carrying an object in their hands to float in the fountain. The children from Clairvoyance float pieces of magenta colored fabrics, parrot feathers, packets of oiled flower petals. The children from Logic float perfectly designed boats made from 24 lb paper, uncracked almonds, and reasonable shoes.


After about an hour of objects circling the fountain, all of the paper boats, almonds, and reasonable shoes are fished out of the fountain by the children of Logic. All of the pieces of magenta colored fabrics,  packets of oiled flower petals, and parrot feathers go home with the children of Clairvoyance, except for one.


There is one small yellow feather that floated out of the fountain. A small girl picked it up while the other children were petting magenta fabrics and pushing paper boats. She twirled it between her thumb and forefinger. She pinched water out of the wet down at the base of the feather, and stroked the bright yellow barbs at the top. Her eyes fixed on the other children of Logic, the little girl took two backward steps away from the fountain. When no one noticed, she took two more. She tucked the feather into one of her hair ribbons and took two more steps back. She dried her hands on her pink laceless dress and took two more. She kicked off her sensible shoes and took two more back. Then she turned around and walked forward.

On a Summer Night in Clairvoyance

I was surprised to hear a vehicle pull into the driveway. It was late, after midnight.

I was sitting on the porch we called the deck. Screened-in, which a deck would never be. I had Leonard Cohen on in the kitchen, speaker propped against the open window. Wheels against gravel, a little VW. I had no idea who it would be. I don’t remember even wondering. And I wasn’t high. It was just the rain and the music and, after all, I did this every night. Just sit, the rest of them asleep upstairs.

I could see him as he came forward, opening the wooden screen door. I knew him. A friend of my brother’s. I didn’t know him too well, he was younger. He had some records under his arm. We talked for a while about music. I had been away a few years. We might have had some tea.