5.5 Living in a Library

Her posture was perfectly shaped for book reading. Shoulders curved and bent over books that were lifted up to eager eyes, ready to wander over sculpted words twisted into life size characters and real places. Rows of thick and etched spines lined the rooms around her as each one has been read, cried over, and then looked for in real life. "It could never be" finales were shelved away on one side of memory and space. Because after all, it's a truth universally acknowledged that a story beginning with "once upon a time" has to end with "happily ever after."

5.4 Independence

A thin strip of sunset was left as fireworks burst open above it, to the left moonlight shone in a long ribbon over the lapping water. The fireworks competed for attention, racing each other to explosion. People appeared throughout the streets, like firework hunters looking for the best place to watch. Calling out to each other and chasing the sparks down, pointing when they're ready to explode, and turning to the direction of the light. All along the coast they popped up in colorful glistening showers, tossing their ashen leftovers into the water. The sea breeze ripping the entire time.

5.3 The American Dream

First we slept on mattresses in the porch, the sun waking us up and sending us out the door to the field. Working again and again like our father and grandfather before, each pursuing to make it better than before. Getting coins pressed in my hand over and over again until it became a bank account in my name. A college degree and hearing "good job." A marriage license with a "Mrs." and a birth certificate with "born to." Driving a new car into the neighborhood and a house deed with my signature. But the house next door is bigger.

5.2 A Daily Fight

A fortnight, that's how long I've daily fought. War had been declared as I only tried to do my job. I had called in for back up and even with expert advice, the other side acted unexpectedly and many more were injured. I had to pull the battered and torn out from the Enemy's clutches. I camped out on the site, never repeating, always starting again as it seemed the only way to have the slightest victory. A small skirmish was won, before retreating back home. Finally, in surrender I gathered the remaining victorious pieces and left the Copy Room.

Elevator Etiquette

They wouldn't let me drive a car, but I could an elevator. Up, stop. Down, stop. Guest walk in, I drive and let them out, mostly. What to do in an elevator isn't taught—it should be one of those instincts you just know—like walking.

If so I’d open the doors and people would step out. New people would step in and say what floor. I’d learn where they’re from. There’d be no fuss if I paused for more people. I’d open the doors; we’d wish each other well.

As it is, I pull the doors open.

“Going up?”

“Down.” 

Water Into Wine

Grey skies are forming
Uncharted course approaching.
Plans disturbed, treasure guarded,
Wary of new danger brewing.
Rain is dripping down,
Dripping down
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are coming
Tossing the horizon.
Sirens awaken, wailing for safety,
Havens flooding, ships leaving.
Tides are growing high,
Growing high
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are falling
Losing grip on what remains.
Running through the drops,
Hopes frail and foundations failing.
Rain is pounding hard,
Pounding hard
But you turned water into wine.

Grey skies are changing
New seas for sailing.
Currents carrying off dreams,
Rolling down the hill.
Tides are drifting on,
Drifting on
But you turned water into wine.

Intrigue

They had two faces, those places.

The graveyard with its cold, bleak headstones. Lined straight in perfect rows. Granite pinpointing where memories ended. Green grass rolling away, waiting to swallow up more dead dreams.  

The cemetery with stones vying for attention. Reaching high, proclaiming the owners greatness or set low, bearing an ordinary tale. Its craftsmanship the show of their family’s life. Lives condensed into a handful of letters. Stories and tales of old life held captive by its headstones.

The graveyard and the cemetery. So many lives returned to where they’re from. Waiting, for their glory or their doom.