Not a Bird…Not a Plane

My lover said she wanted me too. My lover said, board a taxi and meet me half way. Along the way I met an old hag. Her knobbly finger pointed me away. She said, you star-crossed lovers, your end is nigh. I turned my nose to the sky. Without a backward glance, I told the taxi-man, Continuer! Continuer! Let’s get the hell out of here!

I checked my map. To my surprise the distance had grown by leaps, turned to miles as far as the eye could see. I asked the Taxi-man, how far my good man to my lover, do you know? He pulled out his looking glass. He squinted his bushy brow. He counted off his fingers as he spoke:

My dear boss, I count nine hundred leagues and a half a score. My taxi cannot possibly go that far. My back will break in two seated with you in this car. I beg you dear boss, let us turn around and get the hell out of here. We will be home in time for a hot bath, a hot meal, a warm bed, a kiss goodnight and a good snooze. Don’t you see it’s the right thing to do? The old hag said—

Forget that old witch. Time for me to ditch this ride. Au revoir my good man! Head back. Warm the old hag’s bed for all I care.  My burdens are mine and mine alone to bear. Go, my man! Godspeed to you before I let loose my tongue! Vamoose!

I hailed a rocket on a docket. I boarded in a second and take off got underway. Up we went and up we went. We twirled in circles and twirled in circles. Zigzagged like drunkards. Zigzagged to space. We landed on the moon. Pit stop. Landed on Jupiter. Faulty calculation. We had a breather before we took off once again. We landed on the stars. Finally! I whipped out my laser gun. I am gonna make the stars so cross at my lover and I. I took out my laser gun and bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The stars…Crossed…The oceans…For me…They crossed…My Lover….And I…I Blasted them…out of the Sky…Our love…Blossomed and Died…And Rose…and Died…The cycle…Of life…It Blossomed…and—FREEZE IT THERE!

Picture perfect.

I was upbeat, drumming my fingers on the rocket dashboard. Humming myself a tune, I was smiling, smiling, smiling. Then I was frowning, frowning, frowning. Unforeseen weather forecast. Plummeting to earth with a super turbo blast. This day, do I breathe my last? I should see my lover! I should see my lover one last time!

<Mayday! Mayday!>

<Is anybody out there?>

<Hello?>

<Somebody help!>

<Dear Lover?>

<Please catch me>

<I don’t want to die!>

<Please?>

<I LOVE YOU!>

BOOM!!!!!!!!!

***THE END***

When I fight

When I fight, I fight as a blind man running into a ditch. There is no telling what the outcome might be. Good or bad, I can never tell. One thing is certain, win or lose, it never did settle well in the pit of my stomach. It churns in my tummy with such anger, gives me gas. It makes me belch with such thunder, wriggle with such discomfort, I would rather I staved off the fight.

When I fight, I fight as the rush-me-not tortoise would. I close up the windows to my heart so shut, the winds fidget to escape. I bolt the door to my soul so hard and draw the blinds and sit quietly in the pregnant darkness that I have created for myself.

My mouth takes back its inviting smile. My eyes shut out their warmth and my face its prior recognition of who my friends be. My welcoming arms fall limp to my side, my chest heaves and falls in defeat, my broad shoulders slump: my skin crawls with such a chill, such a chill that my teeth chatter, my mouth wobbles, my heart flutters. My heavy heart cringes and folds and grinds to a halt. That sets me off – my soul screams! And such a feeling that is, I would rather I staved off the fight.

I would rather have unsaid those words; I could have feigned sleep, murmured for effect, got you off my case. I could have sneezed for a bit and maybe derailed my train of thought. i could have said I loved you, you could have said you loved me back and all would be well now.

Now here I am, seated quietly in this pregnant darkness I have created for myself; a grave I have dug for myself and now I have to take a seat in. I am now seated quietly, too weak to climb out, too scared to scream. My soul is doing that for me, screaming, weeping, sobbing; clawing through my mind, searching for a way out.

I am afraid; my skin is crawling with such a chill. I ask myself – why did I fight? I would rather have staved off the fight. It has brought my shameful flaws to light.