Saturday, August 29, 2009

On the Edge

Pamela Pizzimenti 
I opened the sliding metal gate and heavy door of the old service elevator, Arnie exited onto the street and we said, ‘goodnight.’  Alone in the elevator of the downtown Oakland building, I could finally start my janitorial rounds.  Suddenly, the metal gate rattled and clanked, the elevator violently swayed.   I thought, ‘this elevator is finally going and taking me with it!’ I grabbed the service phone…dead!!  The door cracked just enough that I could jump onto the 2nd floor, ’Safe!’ Not quite. Falling cabinets crashed, the building shook; this was no malfunctioning elevator this was the Loma Prieta Quake! 

Laura McHale Holland
It was out west, in Salt Lake City, maybe, or Denver or Albuquerque. I passed through them all in 1975. My long dark hair sparkled in the sunlight as I sipped wine in a cafe. A handsome man with dark hair and dark eyes sat down next to me, asked me to leave with him. I refused, said I was waiting for someone. He tensed up, inched closer. Repulsed, I rushed to the bathroom. Years later, before his execution, I recognized Ted Bundy on TV. He especially liked women with straight, dark hair, parted down the middle, just like mine.

Kristine Dispels the Shadow Heart
Shotsie Gorman
The Yaqui Shaman held my head, his assistant my two Achilles. My lover stood to the left of me, hands poised. I writhing in pain, feeling my wretched lung would tear from it’s mooring.
            “When I say now, you put your hands around his heart-hold it- send the love you feel. The Shaman commanded, now!”
            I witnessed her miraculous hands disappear into my chest. I watched Michael, Guadeloupe, Theresa and all saints supporting his alter vibrate and candle glow.
All the pain suddenly left. Looking up sobbing, to see everyone was deeply crying with me.
           “What the hell was that?”

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