The Letter K

Two more degrees until your spit that hit the railing freezes.
Two more hours until your thumbs won't work.
Pitch me something better than this. Please
be better. Be authentically unobtainable.

Go ahead–
Scratch your arms, your legs, your chest, your head, your feet, your... it's all still there.
It's all for you and what do you do with it?
Think of ways to be a human that the other ones haven't seen. Right?

You sit there, having conversations with people who may or may not exist somewhere else on earth,
but for now, they're here, with you,
making you look and sound all kinds of ways.
They are the true artists, are they not?

How long will you wait for a satellite to fall in your lap, or Mr. Incredible to bring down a building?
2012 was thousands of days ago

Sit in silence for a moment:
Let everything hum.
Breath in the loose rubbery rattle from the highway that rages over these hills.
Watch as your insides misfire, and wait – as they roar back to life.
Listen to your burn holes.
Taste the eyes you have broken contact with because you weren't really listening, so you threw up something generic that satisfied.

Now remember how you feel right now:
The cogs turned as you spit gasoline and ethereal adjectives
but what's left is a slow, inefficient, feathery dance to the floor.
This field of elephants and shrimp will take pity on you.
They'll be there when you close your eyes and they'll be there 12 hours later,
when you decide to participate in whatever game this is.
Think about adding a dash of mystery to your chowder, it will warm your bones.

Keegan Shaw 11/18/19