It was a beautiful day in the neighborhood today. You will ask why, I know, for you are inquisitive, like all of us ought to be. It was beautiful because the sun rose, crisp and new from underneath its covers. It graced the sky with a message of lilac and petunia hope. You would have loved it, for you love early mornings and promises of beauty for a day yet unseen.
the sun-bronzed, curly-haired boy sits slumped against the neck of his chair and nods at me as I pass in my silver car. I am not driving one of the large trucks charting boats into the park and thus, he has no reason for stopping me. Parked parallel to him sits a red mini van (perhaps his mother’s mini van because he doesn’t own car yet?). Maybe he’s saving up the money he earns from sitting and waiting for boats. Maybe he will find a rusted-over, belly-almost-touching-the-highway kind of beast to call his own. He’d be one of those kids that christens their first car with a bottle of fizzy water and names it “Chuck”.
a thoughtful farmer once said to keep away from electric wire, keep away from screens (like the one you are reading from right now, dear one) and to communicate slowly. She wishes she could be a better poet like him, however, she’s a rather feeble poet at this juncture in her life. She would be a farmer too, but that’s not working out so well for her currently.
It’s kind of hard to tell what exactly she’s drinking, but it’s a melody of healthstuff with a root beer-tasting harmony. Strange. Brown. Dusty. Curious. She wonders if it will cleanse her liver or brighten or skin or simply cause grumbling gas bubbles in her stomach tomorrow at an unfortunate lull in a meeting. She hopes not the latter.
She swirls around the brown mass and takes another sip.
It is 2021, and while I have a hundred strong opinions, I would rather drink vinegar and bleach than share them.
Shish kabob your opinion and watch it sizzle and spit as it slowly cooks over the fire range of reality and public drama. Perhaps there, in the charring colors of red and yellow and orange, it will find a way to be edible.
find your own by diving deep into the coral reef, where you will be met by all sort of strange types. Perhaps there, along with colors and textures and shapes you see only on screens, you will find that complex thing called emotion, and you will pull it up, wet and slimly, out of the furtive depths.
“Welcome to heaven” the trees seem to whisper as she plods along, oxfords crunching the cornflaked earth and wind rustling her heavy curls.
As nears the bench and looks out over the wide and wandering trees and meadows, her heart dies and goes to heaven, for she knows she is alone and this whole place is hers for the time. Interrupted only by the chatter of a simple sparrow or the crackle of leaves beneath her, she sits and breathes in the damp smell of earth.