"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Thursday, April 25, 2013


Day Twenty-Five: No prompt today, either. Just not feelin' it.

The world is busy.
There's a crowd.
A man is dying inside it.
His family circles him, faces salty with grief.
Around them, the crowd buzzes.
There are businessmen on cell phones.
There are students weighed down by books.
There are underwear models wearing complete outfits.
They walk and they run and they stumble in high heels,
but they do not glance at the family.
They do not pay their respects to the dying man,
nor to the family begging silently for compassion.
This goes on for hours.
At the end of the day, when the sun falls and the world darkens,
a young man joins the crowd.
He is apprehensive.
He tries to keep pace with his constituents, but is often slow
and they become unhappy with him.
He issues an unending apology.
As he passes the family, the young man slows and then stops.
The family looks up, relieved to be able to share their sadness.
But the young man gives a sympathetic shake of his head
and then moves on.
The family is alone again.
They wonder and cry aloud, "Why us? Why us?"
They pray to a deity and they ask him to explain himself.
The man has died.
The crowd buzzes on.
The world is busy.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
The New Pornographers, Falling Through Your Clothes

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