There are always a few of these for every crowd - lifeless lilac bushes or leafless laurelle trees who, undaunted, mingle with the living ever green sentinels surrounding funeral progressions in cemetaries leaving me haunted by a single unnerving prospect ...
Some special olympic medal or bizzare busy-ness award sown to reap awaits at finish line if harvested ahead of schedule while you along with every other slow-poke in the world are obdurate obstacles slowing down the process;
strains foot at gas pedal grabs for the wheel - trigger finger itchy but refusing to ride shotgun
always the bitchy backseat driver whining Are we there yet? every five minutes all day long
barely leaning lazily - her bare backside against a poplar tree occupied by birds counting two - loving doves, I believe by the sound of coo - I spied the lady, nude raptured in reverie; she being no one in particular spoke to me without words
I, being of mind to (re)create captured with precision that gal going about this exhibitionist swoon minus hard wood at her soft behind or those little feathered friends in love or moon and sun likewise perched above ...
was not necessarily a nightmare, but it sure as shit qualified as such; in the very least, the damned creature was a B-Movie feature monster popped straight outta late Nineteen-Fifties pop culture. Pushing. Repulsive. Sneering outside from behind barn door - forcing itself through opening; infiltrating my safe space. I pushed back. I was repulsed. Absolutely refused to let it in. Threw my weight against wood determined to shut out this thing that should not be if I could.