OCD-ING FROM A THOUGHTLESS SENTENCE

 

In the space between the moment you say,

“You probably won’t like this but…”

And the actual telling of what I won’t like

A blink of the second hand:

I am crawling through honey

Tiptoeing past the angry bees

Avoiding the hell-bent-on-death lightning

Headlight-struck like a deer crossing a new highway

Paralyzed from a dirt-encrusted boulder tumbling

Down the crest of a craggy hill

Mushroom cloud sucking the oxygen

From all surrounding life

As I mentally stumble from the

Potential catastrophes

Your sentence awakens

In my imagination

I hear you, from an indiscernible distance say,

“I have too much to do

And can’t go with you

To the supermarket”

Does he do this purposely?

I ask my mirror image

Suddenly noticing the additional gray hairs

And rutted crow’s feet

Etching my aging skin

Signs that weren’t there

A minute ago…

 

© 2016 Clarissa Simmens (ViataMaja)

 

 

 

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