Sunday, September 14, 2008

Styrofoam wall

You'd think it would be so easy to just push it over and crunch your way through, littering the path behind you with sticky, static-y flakes of foam. Flicking off the pieces that cling, to rid yourself of the niggling reminders of what blocked you off.

The looming opacity seems solid, though. Making the imagined into actual and perhaps aggrandizing the small. But it's all just pretend. It's all just soft malleability masquerading as substance.

All those little flakes . . . which pieces came from me and which ones were borne of your supposed mistake?

Does it matter? Should I care?

Need just that little nudge and poomph there it goes down down down into pieces and then it's like nothing happened and we're right back to where we were except we're not because everything is different for you now but that's okay because that's just what happens and it's going to be fine and all the little flakes and flakes and flakes dissolve into milky blessed oblivion.

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