Moment

In desolation, he appears under my wood sash and screams incomprehensibly to my no-soul. I'm startled by it so I leave home for one of the last times even though I'm clinging, to go meet up with Rita the rational one. She always has something comforting to say about the comings and goings of things, and usually adds in a tidbit about why Bodhidharma decided to make it out East to round things out. I'm shaking says me, shaking all the damn time and while this makes me feel discomposed, she assures me that it is only natural. Rita is swirling her iced tea with her pinkie finger, a look of contemplation in her eyes, focused on a point unknown or unimportant and I am anxious. You know, she says, after some time, returning her pensive gaze towards I, you are clearly being watched. Her sentiment only increases my uneasiness and in respectful turn, my stare becomes glossy in thought. I don't like the idea of being exposed, I don't want to tell a story, I don't want to be the reality of reality, and I sure as hell don't want to be watched. In instantaneous, educated conclusion of my own understanding, he reveals himself again. He musta followed me that rat. Clearly cloaking my existence was not on the crow's agenda and I would soon be forced to find complacency. Rita's pursed lips attached to a cigarette like an extremity glowed as she spoke. It cant be that bad, can it? She said. I concurred and thanked her for the company of another human being and excused myself. Alone, I hiked up Post and fumbled for my keys before they would become useless, sat on the floor of my soon to be empty home, and waited for him to present himself under sash once more.

For One Stop Poetry