The old mechanical horse is dead, lying on the side of the road, little children pretending it is sleeping, poking it with a stick, shouting with glee, "Horsey awake! Horsey awake!"
No one knows where they will end up; today, tomorrow, yesterday, noday, today, whatever.
Life is a mystery, a road, bumpy, smooth, non-existing except for a trace through the woods, trees sprouting out from the side of the cliff.
The old man on the bus stared out the window, mumbling, tracing things in the glass, wondering where the hell he went wrong.
"Live life like it's your last day on this shit hole planet!" his mother screamed at him just before she blew her brains out, right there in the kitchen.
He couldn't remember much about her, except for that moment.
He was eight.
His father had just been promoted, big raise, everyone was happy.
Two hours later, she was dead on the floor, her brains against the wall.
He wasn't sure why she had done it, no one knew, maybe it was just her time sped up, the cancer in her brain, unseen, unknown, had begun to take control.
"Jill, kill yourself!"
The bus continued forward, rolling down the bumpy road, street called Fourth, crossed with Main and ended up at a turn around with no name.
Few people know what it's like to walk in your shoes.
They might know what it might be like, a tragedy there, a wedding there, two fucks and a dollar show here, but they don't know exactly what's it like.
They can pretend, nod, smile, hug, give a shit, kiss you on the forehead, push you into oncoming traffic, hoping you don't suffer too much.
"You've lived a rich life!!!"
I was sad I didn't have any shoes till I met a man with no feet.
The bus stopped at my stop, a plastic store that sold Germanic pots for plants.
I wasn't sure if I would need ten or twelve, but it seemed like a good day to get some for the party tonight, my funeral.
A blessed event, with lots of balloons and cake.
All funerals should have lots of balloons and cake, it says so in the bible.
The obit shall read -
Bob Williams is in heaven now. Possibly Hell. He left four cats all named Sniffles who are now be taken care by his Uncle Ted.
Bob was proceeded in death by his mom and his favorite cat Whiskers.
Bob was a garbage collector for the city of New Road, Ohio but was trying to break into theater.
He died from a kick to the testicles.
He will not be missed.
Signed, an ex-lover
Ex-lovers can be cruel, especially when you never loved them, just use them for their money($12.94) and a hug.
Cindy gave great hugs, the kind you would pay for, if you weren't pretending to love her, and she'd give them to you for free.
She pretended to hate me as I walked out the door but in reality she was relieved that I was going, she wouldn't have to pretend anymore she was pregnant or dying, or whatever she would tell me to keep me from leaving.
"I'm a man!! DO YOU HEAR ME? Trapped in a woman's body...I need you!!" she screamed one night.
I too was a man trapped in the body of a man, which made absolutely no sense at the time and still doesn't.
We made love fourteen times in the period of two weeks.
She told me twice she was pregnant but the baby was lost to the wolves who broke into the house.
"They stole our baby!!"
Two days after I left, I recieved a call from her mother.
"Cindy is dead...you fucking bastard....she killed herself over you!!"
I didn't know what to say, didn't seem anything I could say would be appropiate.
Life is a trip, one step in front of the other, never looking back, for what's back there ain't worth a second look for the most part.
I don't really mean that, there's some good stuff back there, lots of good stuff, tons of it, but it's all back there, can't even exit, turn around and go back.