Drift
By Eric Matthew Olander
The rip roaring world is in a crazy phase, with the big blue moon winking, Drift (lounging in the wheel barrow) cracks a Red Stripe — Rastaman vibration, Yeah! Jah; one love — and lets the cap roll into the mud and feathers, shakes his head at the long and winding road bringing man and shadow here, among the grave stones and parking lots, as the junkyard dog starts its barking, beyond two or three tall rolls of autobahn corpses; working his keep once the twist clicks and suds fizz and disturbs the tranquil and silent seclusion where shadow and man smile, spinning the fist size bottle within his wet and now sticky palms, as a howling is offered (to muffle the sirens, if not God’s damnation the F bombs) with the first pasty, cool sip of the long, nerve-racking day, where he’ll ponder how he didn’t know he had a daughter — even to hate his very soul — unconsciously petting his fake service dog: Blue, who sits obedient enough, in his threadbare harness, and sniffs the damp air with wiry whiskers, unimpressed by the other dog’s vicious calling, and yet joining in, in the ancient rite necessary to subdue the injustice and neglect of this man made civilization’s lack of bandwidth and senses, beyond first responder loudly speeding, doppler effected, to endless corners of the rough and tumble city, viciously distracting confounded — ADHD the acronym: the billable diagnosis — contemplation and piercing canine eardrums in the moonlight shining across the puddles and white speckled ground; across the rim of the bottle, gilding the rain glazed chicken shack, further down wind, until all fades into unknowables once again. Cloud covered and sequestered to a common white noise masquerading as tranquility. The phone call having said the grandchildren are safe and unharmed. At their school’s shooting. With profound hesitation’s grip upon the receiver, “Is Spring break still Easter?” he will ask.
Ode to Etc.
By Bill Flood
Four Mie
I love your
Nose,
And etc.
I really like
Your etc….
TimeI guess
Time keeps flowing
even when we do not.