This morning, people drive by me on their way to work or picking up the kids or going to the beach, hurrying to catch up to the blur of traffic they’re already falling in line with and waiting for,
their futures swallowing everything, even space, like a black hole child standing before the grave of his father at a funeral meant for a book on grieving.
It appears they could care less about whether or not I’m present on Earth, so I’m thinking they’ve probably swallowed whatever light I was long before now, whether I can recall them doing it or not.
There’s something special about being a light one can consume and store in an unknowable place though.
For one, I don’t have to worry about my feet tripping over anything on the ground, and there’s no need for me to shapeshift into a kind of flashlight that only reveals what one doesn’t want to be.
There was a time I thought about driving and even enrolled in a driver’s ed. course, but that wish to go everywhere before it’s too late has been replaced by a wish to slowly follow myself down into a place where the sciences of time and space no longer apply to the art of getting to the bottom of a me I’ll never find,
and is why, when I walk by you guys with my messenger bag over my shoulder to remind myself I’m still here and able to be messaged, a part of me sees you all speeding off to make ends meet as your way of making yourselves stay together in a wind storm of tornado-like chaos a tornado-like mind can never be, up in space with a view of everything that’s already been.