PAIL T. LAMBERT

The Canaanite Trilogy

Last night as I sat watching on TV a historical drama based on WW1 called Mash
I felt and then saw a little tiny ant crawl across my arm onto the table and into ah my pepper grinder
tonight I checked and the ant is still there I closed my eyes and thanked the lord that I hadn't put the pepper
on my evenings meal, chipped beef on toast a typical WW1 repast as I try my best to recreate Canaanite culture in America

Along the Pacific coast side of the USA, deep in the mystic regions of the Northwest Passage on the steps of Temple 13
I hear faintly in the distance a rhythmic pounding the sensation I feel the vibrations energizing my feet and legs and begin to dance
swaying backward and forward as I prepare to step into the unknown and spy a large attack poodle cradled by two young women neither of whom
are my two wives or two girlfriends or two neighbors but two unknown tourists visiting from Hawaii searching for an Indian Casino or better yet Las Vegas

one lady told me her husband or boyfriend or girlfriend or wife had left her suddenly for another of course I was concerned
when she told me he or she or them had met some other person or "new" loved one on the internet no, no, no, not again I cried
in WW1 many couples and pets spent up to and including by the way longer than a year separated from there loved ones and only slowly
recovered their upholstery in plastic, fabric or leather and turned to the next available person or pet such as I did when undulating rolling jumping
I saw the look of burning passion in my gardeners eye but grew to doubt his love when he left his ear muffs and leaf blower on as we sweatily embraced