DOWN FROM CENTER
A sometimes cloak and dagger
routine hides many things : the
daughter of a tailgunner in the
Second World War, or the story of
a back-alley brawl in an old-town
constabulary.
-
I look around me now to watch it
all fall away - salacious groupthink
is the wrecking ball. Thinking of
motivational numbers, I realize
there are none.
-
Everything sinks down from the
center now, if this life even has
one. Constant flux, perhaps?
-
I think to myself of the first
filament lightbulbs, releasing
people from the grime and grub
of candles and gas. The next
think to occur? Someone comes
up with a lampshade - all that
brightness in place was too much
for the face.
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