Something I wrote

A green and pink lotus flower, retinal spine touching the muck and mire. What the hell is mire anyway? An area of wet, soggy, muddy ground; a bog. Deep slimy soil or mud. [Thank you American Heritage Dictionary Fourth Edition and dictionary.com]

I’ve been selling my silence to the wrong people. Someone once told me how calm I appear and I knew I was doing something right, like a ninja as was said before, like a superstore clerk wearing glasses and slicked hair – hiding the secret of the burning children in the grocery store cellar.

A van came through the town on a cold and frost covered December morning. In the window of the second-hand shop, opaque and crystallized, a mannequin lady held out her hand showing a piece of plastic jewelry, wearing a rabbit-fur hat, a mini-two piece business suit and holding a plastic purse with brass knobs. Downtown was as empty as The Rapture would promise, not a soul dared walk or even wake up on a morning as cold as this. The sun was out, pestering the storefronts and asking them why they had not yet opened their doors. The van parked in front of the bank, turned off the engine and mingled with the silence of the surrounding brick faced buildings. My blue shadow and my orange light. Inside the van were two people. They were two people who had just met the night before.

Today's Playlist

The Cure: Bloodflowers
Depeche Mode: Playing The Angel
Neko Case: Fox Confessor Brings The Flood