A. Theist

Lights In the Sky

Its night, and I see the flashing of drones up high, beaming their cancer messages for everyone, and some stranger inside flips his wig, and urges me to run under the trailer, to curl-up in a dog burrow and sleep, and I sigh with age, fumbling my keys, and plastic grocery bags, and I comfort him with the knowledge that from now on, we’ll carry aluminum foil at all times, the good shit, not the dull store brand stuff, whenever it’s on sale of course, and he lets me know that he’s got my back, when I show him an image of me standing before God, like a child in line to see Santa Claus, pointing at my upraised finger, to debate the finer points of giving man one long enough to reach the stars, and the stranger subsides, and when I’m certain the coast is clear, I press play, to continue watching the movie, and Santa laughs, and pats his knee, and I crawl up, trying not to stare at the bulge in his pants, and he smiles with those whiskey eyes, as he proceeds to whisper something so profound, that explains everything so well, and I’m so amazed, that I walk off as if in a dream, grinning from ear-to-ear, like I just had my ass pounded.

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