Some Strings Attached

I feel like all the answers. Strange numbers jumping up and down. This is not a bad way to be living with again. Oh, I might describe them out of paintings from across some time.

A brush of sounds, sometimes thunderous, sometimes actual thunder, sometimes more powerful than magic, stretched over it, flown in the wind at the end of a long string of days, but they’re very whimsical and fun. Like dancing though a falling sky.

The storm is contained right outside. A violent disturbance of the atmosphere in the room. Everyone keeps clapping to some song. With strong winds and unusual rain, thunder, mayhem, lightning, or snow, the forecast is, I don’t know, try looking out the window?

You see darkness. There is something out there. Whirling in the fake moonlight. Those shoes once met a dancer on a bridge. What if this apocalypse was made with glitter?

Just because it’s characteristic doesn’t mean you really have to run. Go tell Chicken Little that the sky is falling. I am looking for something.

Bubbles above and bubbles below. Do you even remember why you dived down this deep? Like all the swirly dark space between your lines of thought, a passing octopus apparently wants to know.

In this mind space, you are outer space. Drifting through a thought race. Who will be the first to truly know. I call not it. Also, no takebacks. The bass player is base. No skipping out of bounds.

Don’t worry. This game is rigged. The answer key is made of feelings, and we all have feelings, I think. Somedays?

I think therefore I win. I win before I think. Apparently the trophy store was out of trophies, guns, and love. Maybe things might work out after all. Especially the little things. And kites.

Elan Radousky lives in California. When he isn’t reading, writing, eating, sleeping, or playing the xylophone, he can sometimes be found outside attempting to finally master five club juggling. He doesn’t actually play the xylophone, but he has on occasion dabbled at playing the xaphoon. His favorite color is blue, and he probably doesn’t know any secrets about you.

This entry was posted in Poetry and tagged . Bookmark the permalink.

1 Response to Some Strings Attached

  1. L.K. Latham says:

    I enjoyed this and will take this one line to my next speed writing group: What if this apocalypse was made with glitter?

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 )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google 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 )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.