Ambling Toward the Light
March, this month of holy movement. Time transference in suburban Kansas. Where they were last seen in a parking lot eating greasy substances of no nutritional value. In the heart of the American Dream, I feel the oncoming storm. Twilight Zone reruns shown continuously on all channels. Hey, I’m just another spectator from light years away. Let’s all dress a certain way and act as if we’re just beginning this dream of life. The moon is puckish in its absoluteness. Resist it, and the angels will drive this cab anywhere, off the meter. It’s a scantily clad wish on the fifth of October, on a broken calendar, besets my mind forever ambling lightward, toward the exit sign. Mucho Pain-o, pass the Draino. Quick! The potion! The counteracting agent! The flying monkey scene in The Wizard of Oz. The uncut vision. Duck Lake Trail in the middle of the summer. Lake Sarah Heights Drive. Wolverine Trail. Wing Lake Road. Oh, how to turndown the TV, radio, thought processes, dull throb behind stomach muscles? Mind appropriately churning out orange-rose answers, and fully conjured fabrications, too. Yet here we are, backpeddling into fortune’s gaze.