What do I want tomorrow
I ponder this riddle often
Pretending I control those plans
Reasons fly away like bats
Never upon straight moonbeams
Cascading upward, dust in breezes
Idling meanings with purposes
Proclaiming territory on receding tide
I can explain everything clearly
I have no knowledge of why or how
As this sun sinks to the netherworld
My eyes create what will be forward
When the clouds obscure my vision
I’ll repeat this over aftermorrow too
1. turn signal
4. swain [a young lover or suitor|a country youth]
5. gibbous moon [any moon that appears more than half lighted but less than full is called a gibbous moon. The word gibbous comes from a root word that means hump-backed]
6. fen [a low and marshy or frequently flooded area of land|flat low-lying areas of eastern England, formerly marshland but largely drained for agriculture since the 17th century|wetland with alkaline, neutral, or only slightly acid peaty soil]
8. bombshell [an overwhelming surprise or disappointment|a very attractive woman|an artillery shell]
9. Lilliputian [trivial or very small|a trivial or very small person or thing|early 18th century: from the imaginary country of Lilliput in Swift’s Gulliver’s Travels, inhabited by people 6 inches (15 cm) high]
10. mawkish [sentimental in a feeble or sickly way|having a faint sickly flavor]
I would pester her. The brunette bombshell whose melodious voice could corrupt my every thought. But like some mawkish lilliputian werewolf want-to-be, I waited upon a gibbous moon to become full and set me free.
I realize with no car in the garage, i was no more than a swain. The person driving down the road left turn signal stuck on like i had no idea when to turn. And when i did, there I was stuck in fen, knee deep in ooze.
You challenge me with a route teeming with pretense. I should jump at the dearth of shock you attempt. How is it possible one could care so lightly? Not as individual drug, nor bulk helps to deal with you.
“He was such a shallow man. Always try to show he had risen above hi snake like personality. Glad to see you succumb to illness.” Tina kicks dirt into the open grave. Her pale thin face sneaks a peek at the five other mourners. “It’s go to see you in the hole but it should be much further. I’d put you below Hell. Maybe that’s deep enough.”
Tina fakes a dab at her eyes. “They came just to be sure you’re dead also!”
“I love the sound of the river. God, those engines fighting the inevitable current! They surge!” Timothy taps his fingers on a wooden crate. “If they stop, the thing goes sideways.”
Timothy tugs down the brim of his ball cap. His eyes roll along the viaduct. Empty as always during the morning. The Sun has yet to bring out the second round of fishermen.
“Well, time to loosen the load. I hope you can swim….” Timothy’s voice raises slightly. “Oh yeah…Good luck with the crate, ropes and gag.”
Timothy pushes the long narrow crate to the edge of the tailgate. A sudden shift in weight drops it to the concrete surface inches from the water.
“Don’t worry those bags of sand won’t hurt soon. The water takes all that weight away. It sounds like it knocked the wind out of you.” Timothy pushes it end over end til a loud splash splits the surface.
“Are you sure someone can read it in a hundredth of a second?” Shiela looks upward.
“World’s Greatest Psychic seemed presumptuous, so…” Gabriel looks at her.
“But can they read it?!” Shiela questions
I struggle with my fringe power. It’s mysteries swirl then list like shooting star. My brain storms new roads to charge down. At last comes a sigh. I have gone nowhere.
Like creamer in coffee
Filaments loosely connected
Running like a child
Splashed like a mud puddle
Togetherness for chaos sake only
Rainbow raindrops falling
Without landing on thirty ground
Their mystery cloaked in abstract
Scattered puzzle pieces
Awaiting the hand to assemble
Only fear is that they are meaningless
“Come in Rogers. Are you there?” The silver box speaks again
“Piece of junk! Like the damn tin can that got us stuck here!” Rogers kicks a stone and tries it again. “Yes, we are here on this damn empty rock!”
“We have a read on you finally. We show ship is down. What’s your status?” the silver box squeals out it’s song.
“We’re stuck. Phillips is taping the ship together and calling this forsaken place Terra Firma. I’m looking for that water line on the map. I don’t think it works. The valve is missing.” Rogers calms down as he stares at the valve.
“You have 2 weeks worth of water left. You should just make a pick up if you can’t activate the ship.” the silver box continues “Check for life signatures, as your mission goals.”
“Well forget that life signature you saw here. The place is dead. Dead! Just like the two of us. Get another ship here. He can’t fix nothing without parts.” Rogers snaps back.
He touches the rusting wheel. His grandpa worked the waterline on Mars. He knew he wouldn’t be the one to die of thirst here.
Thank you Elaine Farrington Johnson for our photo prompt this week!
Sharon ran through the house
“Samuel! You’re on the front page!” she yells across the house “Look!”
Reggie gets up from his chair to see his little boy on the page.
Mommy! Let me see too!” Samuel pops up from underneath the paper. “Just like Daddy said we changed the world. Didn’t we?”
Reggie casts a big grin at his son “Yeah, we sure did.”
His eyes move bad to the rest of the page. His mind says “No we didn’t”