Ritual

Misery hates company; you can see her the cracks in the walls, the warmth of the vents in the multiple shelters you have inhabited She was always with you She is starving by noon on weekdays You use the binoculars you found in the trash (Has a year passed by so fast?) You mock her and watch her and know her well She dances like a Russian soldier You always move with her She sees much and yet not enough for you; that matters not to her She sighs deeply and you admire her lilac hair when she almost close enough to hold She never looks at you, but maybe she looks past you, At least, maybe she knows you are there. She is probably oblivious to pretty much everything that life has to offer You think to yourself and laugh (Has ten years passed by so fast?) No one loved her like you She reminds you of a cat A panther, perhaps a lioness You are the hunter You are the prey? Pray that 17.5 years doesn't go by Quite so fast.

Mas o Menos by w. clark I had made an important decision that drizzly December lunch our, a choice that might have been a major turning point, or one that made me realize I couldn’t trust myself, control molecular mutations that were implanted in my DNA, but were fertilized by the irony of life and made me older, smarter, and a riddle unto my own psyche. I left the office promptly at 11:45 am and it took the usual 3 minutes to get from my desk to the elevator to the front door and down the dozen stairs to the front green and I swiftly broke right up Maroon Hill two blocks west, slushing hurriedly up to the garden gates, and then made haste past the goat petting zoo. Temporary images whirled past me as I lost more seconds of my hour and tore down to the Landing, the hillside slanted toward sea level and my spine started to burn as my speed increased, the spring humidity filling my lungs with heavy water and my terror elevated to a state of shocking horror for that which broke so many ...