The Carillon Calls

Hutch takes a trip without Starsky, but Starsky is still with him anyway.

Originally published in The Fix #1 in 1987.

The carillon calls. The sound of that
Mediterranean summer signifies my rebirth, chants
of my stay in Italy without you. After those long
months attending your convalescence, your need
feeding upon my faith, I was emptied; I found I
must steal away to nurturing solitude, my cadence
of contentment.

The carillon intones
in a bell tower
so far from home

trolls of Renaissance
so warm
so cool
so wise
so new
so ancient
so fair
so carefree
so free

Vocalizes sound
upon the tender breeze
so beautiful

Like me
Like me

enchanting still

tall
tan
blond hair
smooth skin.

I can face myself in the mirror, almost young
again. What need is there to conceal, what secret
beyond approving Grace? And, what is really there,
but the timbre of you, and the sound of the bells?

Oh! If you could hear these bells!

They tell
some song I know
yet cannot name.
They call out

Praise!
Rejoice!

Worship in the gathering dusk
an anthem to love,

Harmony coverts on the wind.

I covet the moments alone, do I yearn for your
society? The pool of emotion overflows as I drink
deeply of solitude. Alone, not lonely, only alone,
I am happy in my autonomy, for you are in me, truly.
Hear the bells!

Golden the ground
Summer’s wheat
Withering in the heat
A dry dusty tone.

Boisterous the sky
Liquid blue
Vibrant
Renewed

Time and again
Carols the praise,

Lover of my heart

Keeper of my days
Silent

Silence
Beyond beckoning bells.

Yellow is all the color that I know, burnished
ears in my eyes.

Laud the bells

Alive! Alive!

You set me free; you let me go. I am blessed,
I know; I assume myself. Listen! The carillon calls.

fading sunlight
summer’s time
song of the bells

sounds so round
they roll
upon the air.

I am here; you are there, miles away in racous
L.A. The sounded note of my heart, that you survived,
that you thrived, that you loved me enough to redeem
my soul. Yet, you give what you own. My given? Freedom.
Standing beside a candy apple red Fiat somewhere North
of Rome, I find myself, reborn. The carillon calls,
the reaching sound of the bells, utterances release.

Missing you?
listen—

Sometimes my heart is so full!