Happy Hour Is Over

Happy Hour Is Over

I am no longer lean nor hungry. Hunger has been replaced with a gnawing that I distract with food, drink and risk-less entertainments. My days could be rote or they could be as free and unfettered as a plastic bag blowing through the empty parking lot of a mall that closed a year ago. Either way, their shape or lack leaves little distinction between them. This is not a life of silence; this is life as tinnitus. Life, far away, intimate, singing of loss, singing of the unsung, screaming just below the threshold of sense and clarity. A still life. A quiet life. A life that is a mask for a desperation built on procrastination.

Here I am; fifty ellipses all filled with smaller circles and squares, lines and trajectories, all starting and stopping as randomly as the original ellipse, following the trough of gravity dug by larger bodies but never touching them. My orbit has followed the same path, steady as can be, no matter how madly I ricochet off fashion or fancy, there is no agency to my ride. I am a passenger groping blindly for a wheel I cannot see.

About these ads

One thought on “Happy Hour Is Over

  1. Harsh, ambivalent, germs of truth sprinkled liberally as artisan bread crumbs. A good picture imbued with deep resonance by a tremendous caption.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 336 other followers

%d bloggers like this: