The Witness

They drilled a hubcapinto the bent streetlight,as a marker, like it allwasn’t so obvious.The crash came at the collapseof two completely differentintersecting daydreams.The radios were bothaftermarket and playingthe same station,and somehow in the aftermaththey couldn’t get the power off.The echoed traffic update playedacross both twisted bodiesthat could only be the commentaryfor what happened in the […]

Don’t Dust It Off (The high dive as a Metaphor)

She liked diving because fallingwas the only thing that ever made herfeel better, and the blue jackets the team worematched her eyes and made herdark hair even darker. Getting out of the house all summerand climbing up the metal ladderto the highest board was the oppositeof emptiness. They all got better being ruthlessabout exposing rancid […]

Always Wasting Darkness

Try and touch the burning wickso your mind will staylocked on to what you want it to,and then pry open the escape hatchso everyone can seehow small their houses are.Bring up the timeyou killed a swan with your car,in a rush to make it homebefore some ice cream melted,only if you’re sure they can be […]

Self Proclaimed

I’m the janitor sleeping at workafter tasting the floor polishout of boredom. I’m the lone guy at the barwho is there from open to closesweating out the beer as fastas I drink it. I’m the Zamboni driverat the minor league hockey gametaking half full cans to the facefor not cutting the ice fast enough. I’m […]

Now is not the time

“It looks like no one’s out here,”he told her while she glanced aroundand undid her top buttonsbetween smoke clouds.The radio they broughthad bright red batteriesthey bought at some convenience storewhere everything cost a bit morethan it should have.Everything she said seemed soalive to him like picking upa bullfrog or a lizard and then feeling itreact […]

Blue Light Filter

I feel like shadeand silence once weremore than friendsbut now pretendthat nothing ever happened.Those cool momentsin the grasson the outer rimof some rundown apartmentcomplex mixingwith the broken bottlepollen wind. Where wanderers watchstocks tick on their phonesso they can cash outat the right timeand make it backbefore the doors close,and the night is cold. Those two […]

Feeding Ground

Still shocked that it was over