I swarm and I can smile. Pants are baggy, shoes creaky and cracked. Need new shoes. Why would I wear a coat when it’s 95 degrees? Peoples’ faith is so tentative, and I wonder why the dismissal is wicked. In some ways, I’m a master, and they’ll miss me. I wrap things honestly. Maybe there’s too much medicine, maybe I’m a dog. If I’m not in the dungeon, is it too much? Sealed from the airplane. I swear it is an airplane, and it haunts me terribly. Fly me away while I’m smiling in my blue suit, eating plastic food.
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Blog: Stillfugue Topics:Fiction, Poetry, Essays
stillfugue 
#1 by carldagostino on June 7, 2011 - 5:27 am
Now Carl, plastic is killing the sea turtles because they think it’s food as well.
#2 by Carl on June 7, 2011 - 9:24 pm
I knew I had something in common with something. I now feel as though my mission is complete.
#3 by Kay Camden on June 13, 2011 - 12:40 pm
A hint on this one?
#4 by Carl on June 13, 2011 - 4:45 pm
A guy with a terrible stream of consciousness, worrying about everything but the present moment, suddenly remembering that there are thanks that one mus be thankful for…
#5 by Kay Camden on June 13, 2011 - 9:52 pm
Ah. Interesting. Thanks.