'with
bruise marks and dents in the linoleum'
my last hour of freedom is upon me and an
explosion of thought is bursting to come alive....
a desire for life as if death itself is approaching...
homemade goods and the good of being home...
chocolate chip cookies are heating while my mind
spins.....into other worlds and revelations......
the fastest journey to outer space...because when the
school bell rings I must be present.....
I have peddled my wares....like the wise business
woman I have become.....secured a teaching job for another day in this week of
bliss and will stand on the pavement with treats I have prepared from scratch......the
dream life.....or so others will perceive from the gesture.....
when an author gives life to inanimate objects......my
life it must be so much more than that...or can I only hope.....he describes
the floor as suffering a bruise given by the large woman who sat continuously
in a chair......amazing...and nothing short of genius.....as if words are the
very gift of life.....reading must become an involuntary act... which is a necessity.......or
death will visit you ......and as you lay lifeless on the bruised floor you
become nothing....
an aroma now fills the air.....the warmth of the
oven....the bruised floor and no one.....no one at all that can compare to the
words that surround the day.....
*read Ray Bradbury's Death is a Lonely Business it will surely bring you back to life!
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