Does It Gotta Get Worse?

If you're on the Road to

Good

Intentions that means

you're not

there yet

Rush

Add Pressure

Put and Put upon

Sleep badly

Disdain all leisure

Compress everything into

Very

Small

I n c r e m e n t s

Then

Squeeze and flatten out all details

Add constant worry

Don't forget anything!

Keep everything listed

Iron down every contingency

Then

Enjoy!

Your

Everlasting

Peace

Love on the Beach

Underneath a fabulous science museum that sits on pylons jutting out over The Creek

I am told that sometimes people will bring mattresses

So they can lay down n comfort

After they use a needle to press a different reality into themselves

Can't escape your fate

Can only bend for a while

Underneath the pylons jutting out over The Creek

I am told that sometimes the people who bring mattresses

Don't know

Or just as likely don't care that there are tides that go out and come in

That the moon passes over

That all things have a beginning and an end

Underneath the life-size display of nova brilliance

I am told that sometimes these people with another reality flowing through their veins

Go out with the tide [float-some & jet-some] flotsam and jetsam

Forever hooked into time flowing nowhere

Lost and a waste

No chance with the moon simply damned

Underneath the concrete jetty supporting monied visions of an unattainable future

I am told that the [float-some & jet-some] flotsam and jetsam of society actually seek obliteration

She ran into an Existentialist on the street the other day.

He was alternately and coincidentally begging and pontificating.

She was on an errand.

She listened politely until it was

Her turn

And then said, "What I want is irrelevant."

The Existentialist tried not to smile

Wiped his face and shook his finger

A Master's shake

And replied, "Who am I to tell you what to do,

I am merely a window shopper

On the desires of life."

"Birds are existentialists too!" she piped up pointing to a mailbox.

On the mailbox was a Crow

The Crow was bird eyeing the two of them

She and the Existentialist

The Existentialist turned and watched the Crow

For a moment

And the Crow continued to bird eye the Existentialist and She

Then they parted.

Cracks

Stood screaming on the line

Begging the people around

"Don't let me

Slip through the cracks!"

Horrified

Watching them wave

Baby waves

Bye bye

Bye bye

Closer to Heaven

She passed them crossing the street

A couple

Both Blond

Both very tall and slim

Wearing lots of money

Dressed casual

She was looking down

Saw the woman's shoes and looked up

Curious at the space time contortion

Such a poor disguise

The woman clutched out for the arm of the man

Spoke a few words

The man jerked her hand off

Annoyed

Flashed his eyes to Her and then he bent to the woman

The man spoke harsh words

The woman snapped to attention

Switched her eyes front ahead

And then they were past

When She reached the curb She turned to look at them

As they continued across the street

Until they too reached the curb

Until they passed beyond, into reasonable safety

Away

She looked at her shoes then and for a lightning's crack moment felt

Shabby, dark, short, and wrong

She looked again at the couple and then turned quickly and walked just

As she saw the man's head begin to turn

Back to Her

They'd both glanced back when they'd first reached the curb

First the man

Then the woman

Heads twisting to focus in on her

Amongst the crowd

Curt words were spoken again by the man

Not accepted this time by the woman

The woman shook her head

Adamant

Threw a torrent of words at the man

The man reached for the woman's arm

Jerking her away

She kept walking rapidly

Until She reached the next corner

Checking behind Her from time to time

Away