Memoirs of a Life Unlived

He waited and slammed on the pedal too late -  she pulled back the metal hook with her finger - they made a phone call - pushed a button - signed on a dotted line. You look at these acts stripped down to parts and wires, repeat the clich és, ponder the geared outcomes, tragic ruination and the agency. Meanwhile modern life clatters on, reducing your concerns to words. 

Handful of sweets like teeth launched with finesse straight into his open mouth makes you wince: head flipped back - trilby soldered on - and all over in no time. Back to the broken nose you first saw, and the glare. Looking around won't help; he knows how nerves work - it's his living. His thoughts aren't many but they're stark and they cover this. Have to hope something happens out of a book and he loses interest and leaves. Close your eyes like life won't end.

He's begun again to disappear - bundles of needs threshed to shreds. Thrashing around in silence, looking for a socket or a live wire. It might be the solace suits him fine and they're all wrong. "See the varnished floor where I stood downstage." Dust grows like weeds.

The ocean is clear soup out here beyond their longest lines and you have too much time to think you're running out of time. There's so much electricity been firing up the night: step back to view the painting just as they turn off the light. The tide will draw you just enough to guide you out of sight.

Farther out than ever beyond our longest lines; too much time to think time is almost done. This was it! Finally used up: so much electricity for its own sake. Feel the drift tugging just enough to be claimed.