The coyotes in the distant gray- green hills sound like crying puppies.

I am stepping across this bridge and I am wondering if there is a troll under it?
The bridge is the type that you see in fairy tales and if there are trolls under it then they appear to be
the kinds that frighten the child but disappear when we close the book.
Is there more?
Gnarled faces look up from under the bridge. "Life has treated us well." One troll speaks out loud.
They have collected the revenue and the years of service have helped their cause. They have maintained the bridges throughout the land. Most of the bridges they maintain sparkle and glitter, some pink, some blue,
all glow with a well maintained age.
The trolls stand watching the sun go down with their three-foot long arms that touch the ground.
The cobblestones on their bridges were of the latest technology. They were built of long lasting nylon cord mixed with latex and rubber, hollow like the soles of our nacho shoes. When autos ride over the rounded textures the weight would cause the cobblestone to move down and then back up. This created a small voltage that would be stored in the sides of the bridge. The trolls would use this energy to heat and lighten their abodes.
I think that it is quite unique that trolls have evolved the way they have. Then again where has my mind been these last 45 years? I should have known that the trolls like every one else have evolved in our nice society. I seem to do that with everything I do. I expected them to be ghoulish and slimy with a little side order of foul smells. Well what do I know?
Fundamentally sound young women and men are dancing around me, some know and some do not know the details of their lives.
I now know my task and I wish I were their age.
Gathering friendship is a tough ordeal for me. I am not into making and keeping friends; I seem to burn my creamy metallic bridges to the ground.

January 08, 2001bongaJanuary 09, 2001
January 10, 2001bongaJanuary 11, 2001
January 15, 2001bongaJanuary 19, 2001
January 22, 2001bongaJanuary 22, 2001
January 27, 2001
February 03, 2001

Words & Graphics by Tomas