MARS LOOKS UP, FROM HIS DESK…

"What's your 5 year plan, Mercury?"

"I don't have a plan, Mars."

"Well, what do you have then?"

"I have a Way I want to feel."

"How do you want to feel?"

"I want to feel the Secret."

"How many jobs have you had?"

"How many hats do you have?
I have tried on all 
kinds of jobs."

"Why?"

"Because I'm scrappy like that.
I'm a Craigslist 
Cruiser.  I have been
a barista, an artisan 
tea tour guide,
a massage therapist,
an energy worker, 
a violin-cleaner,
a coffee-cherry picker,
a librarian,
a tarologist,
an astrologer,
a nanny,
an artist,
a rug-maker,
a line-cook,
a singer,
a camp counselor,
a dry-cleaner,
a poet,
a dog-watcher,
a print-maker,
a land conservationist,
a server,
a midnight-baker,
a shepherd."

"But don't you want to
BE something, Mercury?"

"I am the sum
of many things Mars,
and I will continue to
become.  You can
do anything, for a little
while.  You try things on.
You fill your tool belt.
The tools always come in
handy, somewhere on the Spiral."

"But what do you say
to people, when they ask you
what you do?"

"I say, Hi, I'm Mercury,
I think."

"I mean it, Mercury."

"I tell people what I am 
in the process of becoming
in the given moment
with confidence.
People call it 
MANIFESTATION."

"And that's enough for you?"

"This whole question of 
what do you 'DO'
has gotten convoluted,
don't you think, Mars?
You are, 'The Doer.'
That's the mantra
mortals give you, 
'I DO.' Don't you 
have your own
wisdom, about what it means
to do?  Isn't doing
every second of the day?
Isn't doing the art 
of how you move
your body in every moment?
Isn't doing how you get out
of bed?  How many movements
it takes to make it?
How many times, you have to
go back inside the house
before you leave, for something
you forgot?  Doing
is a living, breathing art.
Doing can be
not doing. Doing 
is so much more
than any job
we use to feebly try
to define the essence 
of what rests 
behind action."

Just then, Uranus
burst into the Library
with a smile as wide,
as the doorway.
"What's up bitches!?"
A suitcase in each hand.
Mars jumps out of his skin.

Mercury doesn't flinch,
where he sits, one leg crossed 
over the other, on the couch.
He takes a slow, audible 
sip from his afternoon
espresso, eyes glittering,
watching Uranus.

"Fuck," Mars says.

"I think you mean, FUN,"
Uranus beams, dropping
his bags on the floor.
"SLUMBER PARTY!"

THREE HOURS LATER…

Uranus, Mercury, and Mars lay
with their heads together
on the Library floor,
watching the fan spin.

"Rise mignons!  We're going 
out,". Uranus declares, 
Springing up.  “Venus 
is hosting a game 
of Clue, we’re going.”

"No fucking Way, we are 
in Virgo , in Virgo season
we become hermits, and cultured
intellectuals,"  Mars replies,
already feeling anxious
at the thought of a shift
in his routine,  "We were
cozy here, without you Uranus,
you can't just come in here,
and fuck everything up."

Mercury grins, and gets up,
"Okay, lets go."

"What the fuck Mercury?"  
Mars protests.

"You need a good shaking, Mars.
It will help you study, 
trust me," Mercury walks 
over to the coat rack
and dons his Sherlock Holmes
cap, looking to Uranus.
"Besides, Uranus does
not come around, that often.
What kind of lambs would we be
if we left the Wolf alone 
in the pasture."

Uranus smiles even wider.
He knows they're playing now.
It only takes one accomplice,
to play a game.  He's won,
and he knows it.
He turns to Mars...

URANUS PETITIONS MARS…

"The Earth is shaking.
Do you hear it?  Deep,
down, below.  Under.

The ground has been giving
Way, for so very long;
Worn and ancient

threads coming loose.
Fall in, to something new.
Down.  Below.  Under.

Not knowing always looks
scary, like a gaping chasm.
Unmendable.  Perhaps

it will be.  Change 
crumbles things, to make
room.  Seeds tumble

into cracks, unseen.
A seedling skittering
across the quake,

into a dark crevasse,
is not a seedling lost,
just saved, for later.

And maybe it grows Never
for a Time.  Ideas sleep
even as they fall, 

until they hit 
some kind of bottom, 
softening, into the Fecund
 
Abyss.  Not lost, 
just saved, 
for later."

Uranus moves his hands
like a Magician
as he softly speaks, 
fluttering around the room 
like a fox, dancing 
his Way closer 
to his prey.  Mars 
stares at him thickly, 
and with resentment,
as he performs.

"What's your point, Uranus?"

"The books can wait, Mars.”
Uranus says as he 
clasps the God’s 
knees, “Tonight, 
we read the Earth.
You get to play
Miss Scarlet.”

FOUR HOURS EARLIER…

Uranus calls Venus 
on the house-phone, in Libra,
as he walks himself
to Mercury's Library.

"What's up, Electric Prince?"

"Ahh, so the Heart does beat."

"Seriously, what 
do you want, I am
in the middle
of something."

"Just lay on the floor,
and do not
move, until I
get there.  I have
a surprise
for you."

"Are you kidding, U?"

"I only kid
50% of the Time.
Just do it,
Ocean Heart."

"Fine."

"Oh, by the Way,
Mars wants to be
Miss Scarlet, so
choose a different
character."

"What?"

"You know, Colonel
Mustard, in the lounge
or some shit."

"So, costumes."

"Even the skin is
a costume, Princess."

Uranus hangs up.

LILITH HEARS VENUS

is hosting a Mystery,
so she swings on her coat,
and hops the fence,
into her sister's garden.

Her nephew is sitting
on the stoop, holding
his "boo boo" to the Sun.
"B.B. do you know
what bodies do?"

She kneels to look
him in the face.
He throws his hands
above that space,
"They heal right up."

"That they do,
Little Bird,"  Into
a smile, breaks 
her face, "They 
heal, right up."

MARS SHIFTS

hips, on Venus' front porch,
arms crossed, looking
hot, in form fitting
blood silk, lips full
and luscious.
"This is fucking stupid,"
he says, as he rings
the doorbell again.

A woman opens it,
with two bunned-pigtails,
and a long, midnight blue
corduroy coat, over
a dark mini-skirt,
and black combat boots.
"Who the fuck 
are you?" Mars says. 
 
"So catty in your virgin 
form, Mars, meow,"  
She holds his eyes,
and lightly presses the petals
of her lips into the back
of his hand,  "It's me,
Lili, but, you can call me,
B.B. Gun, Miss 

Scarlet."  Mars blushes 
as Lilith turns her breast,
to let him wander
in, brushing past them.