Fluency

I speak the language

Of nodding heads,

Snapping fingers,

Tapping toes,

Raised eyebrows,

Coughs in crowded elevators,

Frowns in cheerful songs,

Tapping fingers on empty counters,

Persistent gazes past distracted conversations.

If only you could understand it as fluently.

Just the Little Things

What do I do to take care of this planet? Nothing too spectacular. I just save lives, every day.

Every hand I shake, every smile I make could prevent a suicide. Every small favor I do could prevent an act of violence, or an act of terror. Every time I wash my hands I could prevent a disease from killing thousands. Every tree I plant can preserve water supplies for millions. Every word I say could change one mind...which could change another.

Of course, I don't work solo. I can save one life, but it takes a lot of individuals to save an entire world. It's sad though, how many don't realize how much they can change their circumstances. Some don't even care; I call those people villians. I guess I care. I guess that makes me a hero.

I could wear  a cape I suppose, but I wouldn't tell you that over coffee, now would I?

The Day I Arrived at the 13th Floor Part IV

Not much happened for what seemed like hours. I hadn't been there too long before boredom made me try the fasteners on the straitjacket. They had shiny metal and intricate structure in the buckles, and I seemed to lose track of time trying to put them together. Try after try I failed to fasten the sleeves behind behind my back. Leaning against the wall, I decided to fold my arms instead.

It's amazing what boredom can lead to. I'm not quite sure when I started to hum the alphabet....or maybe I hummed Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star. Either way, I started humming it to pass the time...or maybe to entertain myself. Either way, I forgot about finding an exit. Somehow humming turned to singing. I wished I had a bottle of water. Pretty soon my voice went hoarse without any water to replenish it, but I didn't stop singing, until someone interrupted me.

The door opened, revealing a white hallway...with tiles on the floor outside. I only saw a shadow of a person, holding something in their hand. Stepping forward, the figure chimed flatly: "It's time for your meds."

I stiffened, seeing a nurse with a needle in the full light of the padded room. "Where am I?" The question seemed appropriate for the first time that day.

The nurse smiled sweetly, like she would to a feral dog. "Same place you always are, Parge's Asylum."

I blinked, backing up against the padded wall behind me. "You've got it all wrong! I work in an office building! I'm an accountant!"

She winked with a sparkle in her eyes as she grabbed my arm. "Yesterday you told me you were a straightjacket tester. What will it be tomorrow? A professional bungee jumper?"

"But... I have a driver's license.  Let me show you." I fumbled in to reach in my pockets, but straightjackets sleeves had been designed to be too long. I couldn't reach that far.

She didn't respond. "It's in my wallet! In my pocket!" I became more hysterical by the second.

"Calm down now, just a little poke is all." She said soothingly, as she cleared an area on my neck.

With tears running down my face I whimpered. "Please...don't. I don't belong here." I'm pretty sure she couldn't hear the last word bathed in a sob. Then the needle reached my skin, and she forced some medicine into my veins. I blacked out.

These days I spend on what I think is the 13th floor, but I'll never know because they never let me leave. I still wonder if I truly had a life outside of here...or if they're telling me the truth. One day I will get out, and I will learn what exists beyond the 13th Floor.

December, 2008

We were in a bind that day.

When the semi's engine died,

Halfway to Nowhere,

Where we meant to make a delivery

To  a Mom & Pop's store.

We wore the scarves

We meant to deliver,

As the blizzard blew

On through the fierce cold

And sat on bricks as

We tried to eat a cold dinner,

Parked askew on the side of the road,

On the way to a Mom & Pop's store

And halfway to Nowhere.

Okay...maybe this is more like Weird Prose

Oops!

This was your

Jacket I just stained,

That you

Were going to

Wear

Out Tonight,

Forgive me,

It was very pretty,

So soft,

And now multi-colored.

In Rememberance

Happy Memorial Day. I'm the guy you forget. I'm the gravestone you pass by because it lacks a name. I'm the grave with only unidentifiable cracking bones. People remember me as blank slate. Or maybe they remember me as a rose that one person left for me last year. It's pretty dried up right now, I can barely tell that it even came from a living plant.

I guess I'm okay with it, being forgotten. I can't do much about it, being dead. I bet you can remember me, even if it means just conjuring up a black and white image of your great uncle Fred, and give him blonde hair instead of brown. I'm pretty sure he won't mind either. It'll be a start anyway.

No, it's okay. You can leave the dried rose. I kind of like it. It suits me. I'm not really sure when I'll get my next one.

Shel Silversteen, I Salute You

Sneezes,

Always messy.

Right,

Almost Never.

__________

Jumps,

And

Everone

Looks,

Laughs,

Yelling

"Nice!"

_______________

Puke

Isn't

The

Trendiest

Outerwear,

Currently

Known.