fdelano Posted November 22, 2011 Share Posted November 22, 2011 In the half-night I sit by black windows, seeing only tigers’ eyes of dim street lamps. Safe and warm in my swivel chair, I wait for pills to carry my too-active brain and weary body back to a soft bed filled with nothing but thoughtless time. My fingers push keys to form words that cannot re-create the fear of unknown realities that overcome me when they will, strangely, my brain not letting my brain know what it will soon discover hidden in aged crevices and cracks in its former smooth walls of carefree youth. I sip the sour wine of hope and listen to the rumble of a train, the engineer shattering the solid quiet with long bursts of his air horn, as required, but no doubt enjoying the rage of those he wakes to join him as he flees past the other limits of this small town. All day the sky has been heavy with cold gray, hiding now all stars and planets, only faith keeping them in their westerly swim unseen. Surely they are there, Cassiopeia up forty-five degrees to the north, Polaris unmoving. My nightly Earth turns and wobbles; the stars move in the opposite direction, firmly on course. Quite often, one tires and flares as it gives up its orbital effort to streak gloriously for a moment. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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