Monday 5/04/2009 01:22:00 AM

Some days later. After her crash. She was wandering the empty star ship. With a bit of earth in her hand. All the dead laughing at her. From within their rigormortis smiles.

Gone away. In frenzy of molecules. Not lost at all. Components of a greater death.

She was discussing with the martian. How the phone booth had gotten her there. A hiccup of physics. A vomit of math.

There was nothing to explain. Accidents and all.

She had been waiting for the bus. To take her to somewhere else. It arrived eventually she had to assume. Though she was not a passenger.

Who was in her seat. She could only guess. Where it went. She suspected. Was somewhere she would never see.

Rubbing the lamp. Streetlights confident enough. To let me walk. Alone this way. Taking the levers. Arranging them. The cogs nervous with the implication. Making her wishes.

To the genie. In modest funerals. Listening for the dead. Deaf children still dancing after the music has stopped.

| Alcoholic Poet Home |
Copyright 2005-2024. All Rights Reserved.