某物結成

life is a case. there’s more than one interpretation.

ding, ding, d—silence the alarm. your twelve minutes are up.

begin.

pull aside the yellow foam. there, do you see them? remove the red lid carefully, work each edge. snap. take a deep breath, in through your nose.

memories of grandfather showing grandchild how to change a tire. green summer, black rubber smells. you ever blown a flat? #planetsiderproblems

untangle the cords, touch on a new song for the stereo. of course you forgot to add that album, but this is close enough. put it on loop.

tube to mouth, sucking rushing air. hoovering is the verb. glass to glass, a quiet desert wind roars. breath held in anticipation.

exhale.

the old piano, laden with memory. sigh. at the first taste of calm, touch the bass. old synthesizers from another decade.

heart slows, breathing slows. fingers find their way past familiar ridges to smooth grain, barely audible over sweat and grease and drums and drones.

will the neighbors hear? of course.
will they care? who gives a shit.

breathe.

eyes closed, afterimages hum out of focus. half forgotten thoughts, dreams of yesterhour. (add that one to the dictionary)

water, bringer of life. carbonated fizzy syrupy acidic chemically sweetened water suspended in subliming ovoids of chilly slick ice.

it’ll rot your teeth, says mom. do we care today? didn’t think so. feel a twinge deep in the roots.

control down, control up. smaller, bigger. recall lazy childhood days. did you jump on the bed? the sofa maybe? zero g was always sweeter.

restart.

these things are too old, too full of memory. what we see is but a dream… dream… ignite the arpeggio. cue the montage, flash closeups.

copper smells like blood, stir the mix. clink, chomp, whir.

the cyclops with the glowing red eye reminds you to focus on one thing at a time. wait for it… wait for it… almost…

let it go. momentary tachycardia. make the room glow.

the trip back down is the sweetest of them all.

real life is waiting. open the windows. planetside they got the real thing. up here, well… fans do the job.

stand, stretch. remember you are alive.

what was that about syrupy fizzy water? where’t at?

girl, you rock those ovoids.

listen close.

there’s life out there. in here, we’re all full up with the stuff. still got a lot of space if you wanna make some more. and it says it right on the door: “pet owners and gardeners welcome!”

life. pretty cool shit right there.