|Organization:||Fraternity of Avian Deists|
|Summary:||plz ignor pre10ious subj|
Had it come, things would have been
forgotten, people would have withdrawn, leaving
the stores empty, the streets silent.
It had to come.
She was not surprised it had come to this.
She knew exactly what she was meant to do.
This was a time for action.
Then maybe she'd be in control.
She wasn't sure she had enough notices.
Why had it come? It had come.
This year, last year, the previous.
A temporary measure, at best.
The mere thought of it was too much.
She shook the thought from her head.
Memory? She did not need memory. She
was here, now. Live in the present.
Such was her gift.
But no more; this time, it would be different.
It could not go on.
She shut it out.
The mighty skyscraper stood like cheese.
The rain fell, sizzled on the pavement.
A wisp of paper wafted along on the whispering wind.
"Have you ever marveled at the wonders of the universe," it read.
She recognized it; it was hers.
It had to have a purpose.
Why should any of it matter anymore?
What could anyone make of this picture,
bring it to a halt.
Let the philosophers argue over such nonsense.
They dream of symphonies.
The song could do without it.
The buzz of it was:
no better, and perhaps no worse.
In the distance was a column of smoke.
Not even a domesticated animal remained, and the zoo was empty.
The men had left, though the flowers still grew.
Oh, how they flourished!
Could it ever have been different?
The trail led west, through the flower garden.
Too hot to touch; too hot to handle.
Like a hot wet mystery.
But what did it mean?
The daisies dripped in sympathy.
Collecting in puddles, gathering in streams,
Like wounds they bled, purple, pink.
"But maybe," she thought, "I shouldn't."
Caution ill-suited her.
As always, the choice was muddied by the present.
She extended out of herself, sensing.
Eyes, nose, throat, and ears.
Probing, it slithered over the surface.
It seemed almost to quiver.
After all, she had difficulty controlling her voice.
If someone had heard her, though...
There was a hint that it might be bad.
But surely this would be the end.
There was no stopping now, far too late to
escape. Or... There was more here than it seemed.
She looked around her for a sign.
A ball of lightning flashed across the sky, tracing
nothing to be remembered by.
With but a blink of any eye she could
have removed herself, but no, this was
velvet to the touch, fire to the eyes.
In her heart, she knew what it meant.
The thought was enough to motivate her.
This was the chance of a lifetime.
The time for second thoughts was gone; the time for second chances was not.
She knew where the blame would lie.
But she could live with that.
A kind of peace fell over her,
like the slow-motion of hitting a home run,
like the feeling of deja-vu,
like singing in a seedy nightclub,
Slowly it dribbled through the openings.
It searched out the nooks and crannies, seeking an exposed
It was not what she thought it was.
Sharp, searing agony filled her mind.
"Yield", it read.
An odor of forgetfulness grew.
Melting, sagging, betrayed by the aftertaste.
As plain as vanilla, as plain as snow.
Bitter, acidic. It was pointless.
Drawn by cacophonous whispers
could see it plain as day.
She felt the ennui like it was her own.
She understood, though.
It didn't matter anymore.
This was a novel arrangement.
The light was gone.
The laser. The lion. The law.
Wanted, hunted, targeted.
It was a role she was accustomed to.
Wasted, hustled, mistreated.
This was the way of mankind, of course.
The stapler lay at her feet, waiting.
talk.bizarre wasteful archive