silversheep
The power of potatoes. There were too many of them in the co-op all beginning to sprout.
"Load them into the machine!"
The blades whirred. Potato bits flew everywhere. They bounced off my goggles.
"Are you sure this is safe?"
"You'll never get anywhere, if you worry about safety."
Like a grayed-out box.
Where are the instructions?
Looking for a friend
to restore my functionality.
of love and form.
rolling on the ground of the heart.
wanting but never finishing.
letting it be over
before it really begun.
because of fear
or thinking yourself too important
to be a piece of the puzzle
what mark represents you to the world
crystallize my heart in stitches
they look but they don't see
please ask a question about it
I'm drowning in this silence
wearing hearts on sleeves
yet no response
still beating
fresh
Down, down, down the well weighted down by chains, the smooth stone wall sliding by, no handholds, glowing green that snaked round his arms, stillness.
The elf blocked the door.
"I'm sorry. You've been chosen. You cannot go to school today. You have to come with us to the Land Beyond Dreams."
Finally! The beings beyond reality had realized that I didn't belong in this world, and come to bring me to some henceforth unknown land, where I would mysteriously be the heir to the throne!
As if reading my thoughts, the elf said, "Sorry. You see, we need a human ritual sacrifice once every millennium..."
Each turn would be a hundred years. He gave the dial three turns. Then he thought of Jack, disdainful, "you *would* just make a time machine to travel to tomorrow, wouldn't you?"
This wasn't the time to be cautious. He cranked, faster and faster. He would go as far as there was enough fuel to go. Then the handle broke.
A new year, a new page turned. But parts of my mind are irretrievably still stuck to the old pages, memories who won't go away. Can any year ever be done?
From where to where? Simply a stone formation with a hole in the middle. Is it a bridge, a tunnel between two worlds? He goes through, walks around, repeats, ten times. "Am I ten times removed from the real world now?" he mocks. "No, you have to go back," I say in back. "Rewind clockwise," I drag his arm but he laughs it off and heads towards the car.
An egg dropped on the floor.
He stood staring at the yolky rivulets.
Anyone who knew Al would recognize, from the way he stood lazily, from the long, extended way he enunciated "Oops," that he had let his fingers slip.
And well, the kitchen sort-of blew up after that.
Marlene, who, it seemed, had been waiting just for such an "oops," swung her hand - holding the pan - with onions and oil and paprika - and hit Al on the head with it. And then they were down, each grabbing at the pan, letting loose minced curses, covered in diced onions and spice.
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