Reading Time: 1 Minutes
We should have seen the signs, even as kids. I remember a night, like so many nights. The moon split open the sky, its silver light bursting through a crescent gash & hanging over us. You, just a child, tagged along. My friends & I, abusing an evening’s freedom, saw streetlamps & houses, every stagnant thing appear to ripple like a spoon’s guts over a flame’s heat. You know what I mean. We all have vices, & who’s to say whose are worse if we’re all buried in the end? There is no use in weighing afflictions. Any weight so heavy should be shed. To survive ourselves is to level the faults where we often trip. We made a mess that night, like so many nights. The black sky held its breath, took a slow turn to blue as we hurried to hide our secrets. The moon’s sharp edges blurred into their new backdrop as if to warn us: the night is not over; time is not up but will be soon. It urged: collect the litter together. See how your shadows, being cast across the lawn, resemble each other, how they grow when merged & tower into morning.