Duplicitous is he as am I--happy/sad, but not with a polarizing Janus: lyrical bitter.

We hup, hup, hup across and over the river--left, left, right, left. He, a Veteran, is looking up. Me, a would-be soldier, looking down at our feet. His feet are sandled and unchained; mine, steel-toed and bootstrapped.

He is talking (teaching); I am chewing gum (listening) to his converse whistle in the wind: he gusting about Who I am going to meet.

"A visualization of the spirit. A... a... a... person of the Street."

We arrive on Who's side and stroll up to Who's house. The Veteran wraps on the door, then knocks a few more times. He waits several seconds, then pounds pressingly to emphasize our arrival. He steps away from the door, down from the stoop. Up to the window he shouts, "We're here!"

"Who?"

"You know," he exclaimed. "We made arrangements."

"What? You know we're closed on Mondays. All right already. No need to rush. I'm coming."

Five minutes later, the door opens. We are greeted and invited in.

"I live upstairs and keep watch of the house. This is where Who did this. This is where Who did that," she blasé blasé blahed. Then she announced, "We're going to see where Who slept, wept... and died.

"Who's bedroom," the Vet understated with a chuckle unintentionally.

The Keeper requested that I lie down on the bed.

"Do as your told," commanded the Vet.

"Okay," I gnashed.

"Give me your gum."

The Veteran, seeing my expression and reading my language, advised me to comply.

'What about the boots," I inquired.

"No need," she said pointedly.

"If you say so," I huffed, wondering where my manners were.

As I lay, I closed my eyes. When I opened, looking up, I saw four eyes glistening back at me, coupled with a wide-toothed smile. Panicked, I blinked. Then a third set appeared: beaming eyes and a bearded smile guffawing. My throat constricted.

"Oh, Poe is me! I've been seized," I eeeked as I massaged my throat. "Get me out of here."

"Don't forget your gum," chortled the Keeper.

The Veteran and I (and Who?)--we returned and made our way to the theater, but not before heading up the street to purchase a sandwich, chips and soda for lunch. After which, I was given instructions on how to manage the theater.

NOTE: A valiant Battle-axe called and told me to (de-)scribe this Bump on the Log, to write this passage of their significance--of myself.