My heart is a mirror. Everything can fit inside and it looks outside in Panavision. My heart is all yours if you want, and it never dies; it lives there to show you a reflection of what you want it to be, just like a mirror. My heart can never exist, if you go away and leave an empty space that cannot show your image as a reflection. I can shout this out to the world and if someone would just believe in their dreams and then act upon it, it would all become true.
Green is the color of money. Green is the color of life that lives and grows and renews itself yearly. Green grows as a color everywhere and the ocean becomes green every year in the spring. Green lives as the color of the world that surrounds us. The house on Mellowmans’s Lane is green, green like leaves, green like hundred dollar bills, and green as an emerald in the mouth of a toucan in Columbia. The green house on Mellowman’s grows like trees and seems new and never fades, and not one person has been seen coming or going from the green house. The wrack notices the green house. From youth he felt the force inside the house. From youth his curiosity might have killed him because each time he hunted on or near the green house; he felt the numbness of ending and finality. The green house sits in upper middle class suburbia, in an upper class area, filled with upper class and professional people. The green house seems to be painted often as the green gleams newly as a painted house does. The shrubs outside the green house appear manicured perfectly like the plants around the Small, Small World ride at Disneyland in Anaheim California. Perfectly groomed dicondra surrounds the green house without a single weed apparent. Not a track shows. Wracks searches for a four leaf clover in the dicondra next to the house until he feels the numbness overcome him and he has to draw away, far away. The dicondra shows every footprint that treads upon it and the footprints of Wracks slowly disappear as though he never trespassed and a wrack does not know why. Wracks never found his four leaf clover there, never found any luck and once saw a tall oriental gardener with a lump on his neck trimming the bushes meticulously by hand. The gardener would look at wracks and wracks imagined that his eyes glowed but Wracks new this was hallucination, because the eyes of people do not glow, and the man eventually went away. Wracks looks at the green house but common sense tells him never to knock on the door. One Halloween Wracks and Koest knocked on the door but no one answered but a light burned on like a reading lamp and through the glass kost and Wracks thought they saw the figure of a person in a large armchair reading but this could have been a false impression. Wracks felt the force and never again would he seek candy there on Halloween, even if the lights were on. That year he and Koest had to content themselves to assault with tear gas provided by the sociopath at the log cabin house on Bacon way situated to face the green house.
Wracks went to college and would hitch or take the bus to and from the Big University. Every day walking up the hill to Bacon way Wracks sees the green house, the pretty green house that maintains itself perfectly with manicured shrubbery and that big dicondra lawn without a single weed or footprint rendered upon it. When Wracks life became half done and the parents sold their house on Bacon Way, the green house still sits there with nary a person coming to or fro or enters. This situates in the last century and the river runs full under the bridge and careless and useless things pass under the bridge to be lost forever, and ever. Wracks never went back and never will and a large Hydrogen bomb sits inside the house waiting for someone to say hello.
It feels in this mind’s eye the feeling of life and beauty and truth and birth and fulfillment. It seems in the mind’s eye that right and justice and truth will ultimately prevail but at a horrible cost to everyone. As to why and when it is or will become, the mind’s eye will not tell him why. Wracks do not know how, but when he was a child, a man wearing a robe with a crown said to him, “We are but a whim in the mind of Allah, and he showers us with his tears. Wracks life goes on and with him the memories of youth in whimsical traces, and the life goes on.
What is or did live in that house occurs beyond the imagination and the word never can be spoken or believed, or disavowed. The wrack knows who lived in the green house but refuses to believe it himself because the vision flows like a wretched hallucination in a drunken debauchery. The bomb still lives there behind closed doors in Wracks imagination and he will never again return to Tranquil Hills. If you pile up depleted uranium, when a critical mass achieves, fission begins and lights off the hydrogen bomb. The rooms next to the bomb stuff full with spent battery casings like a huge pyrotechnic display in the making in the imagination of a wandering mind somewhere far north in nowhere.