Big Inca

To: The Boss

From: Bill

Date: March 31 

They took me with them to campus. Standing in a drizzle as marijuana smoke drifts past, we waited for the doors to open wild music to our evening. Stood in beards and sparkling long hair, in fur coats and Army surplus greens and stovepipe hats harking harking harking back to eras long past but half-told and half-relived in history, in fourth-grade goodness, awaiting Godot or another round of sneezing. Hold me closer, Hilda. Soon we shall dance. Or whatever I do, being moved by you in motion.

Suffer the guards their flashlights in the gym concert. “Smoking isn’t allowed,” though everybody does. “Dancing isn’t allowed,” either.

Then marshmallows rained from heaven.

~*~

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Big Inca

To: Bill

From: The Boss

Date: March 30

Last Sunday there were five of us in the apartment, including two Deadheads snoring in the parlor. All of them were Wolf Jester’s friends. I wanted to be alone. There were four fishermen down by the river. Mona loves to walk by the river. I had never seen her there, even though I often walk by the river, where the most incredible sunsets occur all through the winter. It’s a good place to get away from everything, even though it’s right off downtown. I’ve seen trout leaping there. Sunday, though, the streets were more crowded than usual. When the three of us finally had brunch, I was glad I wasn’t alone.

A rat crossed the glass-strewn path. Rats bite babies, zip along fast; skunks, just as dangerous, attack from the distance slowly. The rat dived for shelter under a rock. I took another step, heard a rustling through the weed stalks: another rat scurried to shelter. Another step, and I saw a tan tail and rump take the same path. And then a fourth. Fortunately, there are no snakes in winter.

We have a lot of work to do there, Boss.

Today, Mona and I, both enjoyed the walk along the river, especially my rap at the groundhog.

~*~

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Big Inca

To: The Boss

From: Bill

Date: March 29 

In the gutter, a bright orange and red fingerpainting leapt up at him through the dull weather. Wolf Jester considered picking it up and bringing this child’s happiness on paper back to our place. Instead, thinking it would merely junk up our apartment, he passed it by.

Later, I saw it where it lay, brought it home, and mounted it on our parlor wall.

Yesterday, he saw an old chair with finely turned legs tossed out in the trash. He picked it up but when children laughed at him, he left it behind. When he came home, it was waiting for him in the middle of our sanctuary.

~*~

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Big Inca

To: Bill

From: The Boss

Date: March 28

We could start with gold. Or greed, either way.

We could even start with the Maya, who perfected the only true written language in the western hemisphere and invented an incredible system of mathematics that made huge calculations easy. To say nothing of their intricate calendar and astronomy. Oh, my, there’s was a wonderfully expressive language, too.

But since we don’t seem to have any Mayans in urUBbury, let’s focus on what we have.

First, in 1519, Hernan Cortes and his band of soldiers plundered the Aztec capital of Tenochititlan, a marvelous city of gold, advanced engineering and architecture. A dozen years later, Francisco Pizarro found a similarly endowed empire to devastate, and the Inca were forced into submission and ruins. By 1541, the Spanish were obsessed with fleecing mythical cities where everyone was supposed to be covered in gold dust.

You’ve heard of El Dorado, of course, but their greed ran deeper than that, wrapped as it was with missionary zeal and enslavement.

If it were only this, we would simply pity the Inca. But they’re resourceful

In fact, the only reason Pizarro’s handful of conquistadores had a fighting chance was because the Inca were seriously weakened by three millennia of ecological damage. And then the Spanish and Portugese began inflicting their own ecological damage.

I’m sending you the technical reports, but keep them under lock and key at your office. Don’t want the girls chancing upon them. But these things are interesting, for a number of reasons.

One of my fears with the Inca is that they seem to attract conquistadores in search of gold. Canaries in the mine, as it were.

~*~

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Big Inca

To: Bill

From: The Boss

Date: March 26

Damn! Where was that tape recorder when you needed it? I think those frickin’ Inca may be moving awfully fast. I should have told  you to examine the college enrollment. And maid services and day-employment firms. Keep your eyes really open now.

Maybe we should find something to hire some day-workers, just to plumb them.

By the way, you never sent photos of Blanca. Please do. Or else.

~*~

For a free copy of the big novel, CLICK HERE!

Big Inca

To: The Boss

From: Bill

Date: March 25 

Mercedes had a big loud party last night. I wasn’t invited. The place was packed.

What I heard didn’t sound like Spanish. From what I can determine from Wolf Jester and the other girls, she has a circle of friends on campus. And then there are others who work in the factories out by the railroad tracks and in menial jobs no one else will take. Sounds like immigration issues may be a factor for the latter.

Her circles rarely mix, either.

~*~

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Big Inca

To: The Boss

From: Bill

Date: March 23 

My current rituals include dining by candlelight, with a red rose on the table. All alone.

Thor’s latest: “Women are discarded by men at 35, when men are just beginning.”

Mona: “Poems should be written for lovers, not literary critics.”

Groundhog, with a new woman: “Blanca, if you stop smiling, I’ll stop loving you. I want to consume you; kiss me hard.”

~*~

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