An Error in Judgment
Streetlight enters the room without knocking. All it takes is a certain degree of
difficulty to notice. It reverses the territorial rights.
It doesn’t necessarily bleed like a dream, but it weeps like a dream, saving you the
trouble. It’s hard not to become disaffected.
One side of the argument a brittle brown bag, the other a ragged posturing with
bright red wattles. As hard as cement and as cold as cement and as wise as cement, but it
falls over at the slightest push.
The chambermaid sucking on a pickle outside the limits. Taken from the room with
no wrapper, the possibility leaks.
But I remain faithful to the cover story. It’s knocking on my interior and I can’t
come in. The chair and the table and the story are waiting, so I sit in the middle. History
is simply unfortunate I would once have said, but I had never owned much.
I can’t taste the streetlight, I don’t crush the little red globes of generosity and the
missing constructions are not part of the table conversation.
Hail! Caesar is mistaken.
The illumination keeps me in, but the author of my past remains inexperienced. I’m
not allowed to leave without taking back my life.
Streetlight is common. Streetlight is available without warning. All you need is people
not sleeping. And a desire to see what should not be seen.
Rich Ives is the author of Tunneling to the Moon: A Psychological Gardener’s Book of Days currently being published in serial @ Silenced Press everyday in 2014 and forthcoming in paperback. Begin from the beginning, catch up, read daily. Just refer to the Burrow Guide.