Routine was the theme. Hed wake up, wash and pour himself into uniform, something he hadnt imagined being..as the merging traffic passed, he found himself staring down, at his own hands, not remembering the change, not recalling the plans, was he..? He was ok, but wondering, about wandering, was it age? By consequence? Or was he moved by sleight of hand? Mondays were made to fall, trapped on a road, he knew by heart, its like a book he read in his sleep. Endlessly. Sometimes he hid in his radio, watching, as others pull into their homes, while he was driftin..on a line, of his own, off the line, outside the lines, by the by, as dirt turned to sand, as if moved by sleight of hand. when he reached the shore of his clip on world, he resurfaced to the norm. Organized his few things, coat and keys. Any new realizations, would have to wait, til he had more time. More time. Time to dream, to himself, he waves goodbye, to himself. Ill see you on the other side..another man..moved by sleight of hand..
Posted on: Fri, 14 Mar 2014 05:10:54 +0000
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