Preparedness gets one far enough to fake the rest.
In all the ways I could have thought of, I’m prepared. Of course, its the surprises, the orange brown snakes in the autumn leaf pile that get you. Despite how hard I try, I’ve been gotten over and over again. Little divots and holes in my arms and legs where sharp needle teeth sank in. Poison coloring my skin. I turn into a sunset sky, then slowly, night.
Death is both black and white. I’m orange, yellow, purple, blue. My lines are colored outside the marks — you point out. Not with a hand or a finger but a gesture. Two bodies, ships passing one another in the silent bay. Neither captain calls because why would we?
Next, is a bike in a box. It’s funny complicated infuriating when you try, try, try and still can’t get the pedals off. The handle bars won’t go. The tires come off, go on, come off, twist round and tangle cables around your neck. Lift the body out one more time for the grave and this next time, it’ll stay settled.
Tape. One of those minor details easily forgotten. But the store up the street has got some and if you sell your ideologies to the devil — you can have it.
Got it.
Cab comes or already came? We drive off together and I don’t pay any attention. Now, why would I? Trust is a funny thing I like to just engage in. Jump off bridges and don’t look back. Stranger, watch my bags — but we’re at the airport and that’s a big no-no. Dump my tea down a sink because security says I can’t drink it fast enough. Wait while my solar bag is scanned because of just that. Books like bricks clutter the top, bottom, middle. A feast for a bag and bad for my back.
Dinner is crackers, dehydra apples, and sausage I cut hours ago. Tea that should stop my skull bones from separating from my nose bones from my jaw bone up in the air.
Metal needle pokes a hole in the sky. Inside, there’s cells that drink beer, water, wine. Pay the wrong cost at the wrong time and nibble on cheap, stale pretzels twisted by machine arms.
I’m no bird and I hate to fly. But this nomad heart takes the means it can to get me where I need to go.
Back home.
doves and crows 