glass

Wishing well made of clear cut glass. So thick that to see through it your vision becomes blurry. Optometrist. Making the adjustment. Chiropractor, making the crack. Popcorn kernels stuck in teeth make for a very unpleasant movie afternoon. Sticky soda floor and the big screen. Beer being poured at the bar. The communal nihilism that pervades spaces of pessimistic community. Even the excitables have their doubts. About love, about life, about the regrets which they swear they don’t have. When the bar closes and you’re alone in the stone-walled corner nursing a gin and tonic, mindlessly stirring the tiny black straw with your pointer finger you think about your less than optimal moments. And you wallow in self-pity and wish you could be given 2nd chances to correct everything you didn’t live up to. I drop pennies in the well and wish. A wish is a prayer, at least I believe it can be. A thought bubble that balloons forth and soars skyward toward Jupiter or Mars. Something will run into it, read it and interpret it. Carbonated bubbles do their dance I can see them. They are excitables and they are rushing. Never the Earth knew this sort of Life bubbling. An amoeba that begot a Tyrannosaurus Rex. Land Before Who? I find myself constantly marveling at how mankind has progressed this far at all. Surely, it’s a complete accidental.

Author: Roe

30. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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