Eat a grape and imagine
what an orange might taste like
were it the size of a grape. Read
a line of Hicok and finish
reading that line between
interruptions by passing debris
walking hellos walking past as you sit
finishing the same line
you’ve been trying to finish
for 15 minutes. Drive
to the store, buy a pack and ask
where the tip jar is and give the cashier
$1.39 for reaching
for the pack above the counter.
Breathless
phone call
earlier, Brother
is relapsing
again.
Move forward
the stick shift into reverse, advance
the car towards the street.
Revolve three times
around the rotary. The sun
is hiding from the pavement. Don’t
talk about sun, talk about
Brother and how he was flush
with regularity at breakfast
diner in rural Mass., his thumb
tipping a salt shaker on its side and
back on its feet. Finger
the cut on your pinky
finger, imagine the splinter is a shard
of glass, its crystal wood grain
has snagged the inside
of your skin. Eat another grape
and imagine it’s an apple or a grape
of a different color
or flavor.
Dillon J. Welch has a BA in English from the University of New Hampshire. His writing has appeared or is forthcoming in Gargoyle, Word Riot, & Red Lightbulbs, among others. Find out more about him here: http://embellishthelawnmower.wordpress.com.
