Chicken Little

Reveling in the gluttony of careless strangers. Her eyes big billboards desperately selling what she didn't have. Buses stopped in traffic. To pick up the aliens and to let them off. A bottleneck of empty cars caught behind it.

The first taste is candy. Hard and sweet. Mummifying my tongue. The next is adrenalin. And Defibrillators. Savaging wrenching death from the ghost's frail skin. I look at their faces and see more worlds than I can fathom. I crawl inside that tiny chamber carved into my head. Building clocks with needles. and empty dresses.

I see the frames one by one. Feeble animations. Impersonate the flow of blood. stuttering veins choke on the oxygen.

If I should forget how to breathe. some part always remembers. If I leave. Some rogue particle steals the future back. To where it began. The now with its heavy sledge hammer easily dismantling all my arrogant machinations. As I search for that one blade of grass. that exists both here and there. Reaching my hand into the portal. Feeling it disappear. Where we found out the obvious had been misleading. And pushed that square through the circle. Perhaps it will reconsider.

It's because I can't tell where I am. It's mechanics. The engine runs on gas. Back and forth constantly. Until now is all we're left with.

Bare feet on the pavement. As the traffic lights tease. There's something on the other side. But I can't get to it.

The sky is falling. But no one believes me.