Devil's Dance [coz Sajjad mentioned it*]

I knew this day would come. Wait the impatient 20 seconds for Ryze to load, to see the apocalyptic number sit, smug against anaemic lillac.

6660.

My mother was raised catholic, but I strayed; a strong-willed goat. A quiz online condemned me to Dante's seventh circle. I laughed, fingering the ebony cross an old man put-- quivering-- into my fingers, one 5:00pmed portland evening.

Night here falls thick, the lights bleary and amber-- they dont encourage night rambles here.

I have a secret.

As I walk (blending into the black night, encased in black sweater, apart from the tommy girled pistachios n' pinks) to the library, I pass many of these ancient globes of amber light. And they all go off or come on when I pass underneath.


These jaundiced globes on metal sticks, these guiders to the path: if they be off, they shudder to life. If they be burning, they are snuffed out.

I get curious looks. The only answer-- the retreating scrapes of my nikes on the cement.

6660.

I smiled last night, as Metallica's S&M album swept into sound on the ipod. Fumes reached up and clenched at the empty sky, as another lamp went off. A black cat-- resident of these parts-- stopped moving, sat and stared.

Devil's Dance began this evening, with the hard strings, the mighty riffs, the sharp sad violins, building... Building BUILDing into James's voice as this post was begun.

Im not superstitious.

But it will be good when that count shifts.

________________________________________________
* Originally posted on Ryze-Caferati. The count has since shifted-- Universe conspiring. Sajjad mentioned it would be bloggable; thus, blogged.