“The House of Arts” — Image by kenne
Driving the dusty road through the rugged land of
Willow Springs Ranch, the land of hollow footsteps and
Rabbits running down the many small dry washes
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
While brother in the northwest is lost in the darkness,
A friend of words consumes my thoughts
As I capture his desire to hold on to what was
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
Clothed with yellow hunting vest, license in pocket,
Tom hunting for quail, I for the moment,
One taking photos, the other birdless
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
Still, we were there to hunt quail,
For reasons known, yet not known –
Before leaving, he shot his virgin gun
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
Back on the paved road, we took a right turn
To Oracle driving past the Dollar General store
Now hunting lunch at the Oracle Inn
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
Not that we were lost, asking directions at the Circle K:
“Pardon me sir, can you direct me to the Oracle Inn?”
“Sure I can, let me think — how soon do you need to know?”
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
“You wouldn’t believe I’ve lived here five years,” he said;
“Oh yes, I know, it’s down the road on the right.”
“Thanks,” I replied, hoping to leave this loop of time circuits
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
On the left was the Oracle Patio Café,
On the right was the Oracle Inn –
Not knowing it, our adventure was about to take a serious left turn
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
Not sure of our decision, we drove slowly
In front of the Oracle Patio Café –
“How was the food?” I ask a couple leaving the café
In the land of The Mad Hatter.
“Good,” she replied, “and it’s ‘cute’ inside.”
Good is OK, but “cute is, well!”
I was starting to have second thoughts
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
Our Oracle adventure was beginning
To look like a tea party at the luminous
House of the Queen of Arts
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
We walked in seeking a table for two,
Entering one room then another
In the eclectic house of arts
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
Once seated, it was clear we were sharing
A dining room with the White Queen,
In town for a class reunion
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
“Why is the quail like a writing desk?” Tom asks.
“I’m going to have some ice tea,” I said, ignoring his question.
“I haven’t the slightest idea,” Tom said
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
In a word, the House of Arts is “cute,”
With all conversations using
The word often fronted by ‘too’
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
You may think the Oracle Patio Café
stands out in this town on the backside of Mt. Lemmon,
not really in this commerce of friendly individualism
In the land of the Mad Hatter.
— kenne
(Visit The Oracle Patio Cafe on Facebook.)
Willow Ranch Road with the Santa Catalina Mountain in the Background. — Images by kenne
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
I don’t hunt quale. My friend Tom does. I hunt with my Nikon in the land of the Mad Hatter. — kenne