Fable

Bob, , , ,

We lost the moon in the war. No one remembers the name of the war. Kids spray-paint the nicknames of the moon. Only they know its whereabouts. Rivers are an expression of gravity. Spines too.

The paperwork, we burned it. I thought we should save it. But you said we should write it down afterwards how we remember it. 

There is so much strangeness to this day. Like asking clouds not to comb their hair into astronauts, it can’t be done.  Butterflies drink the same wine as volcanoes. 

We met again, years later. To sort out what we remember. It was mostly poetry.

11 thoughts on “Fable”

  2. absolutely beautiful and like K.F. Hartless says “experienced something profound and serene.” that kids only know its whereabouts kicked me in the gut, a reminder that the adult mind is so different than a kid’s and some lucky bastards never lost that being a kid on a playground feeling…..the way you describe strangeness belongs in a dictionary or better yet, engraved on a celestial wall. and what we remember – mostly poetry….it’s all ok, isn’t it? in the end looking back. i guess the lucky ones come to that conclusion.

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    1. I was told once when I was young, from someone a bit older then me, he said, its’ all about the memories. I guess if we live full lives as best we can, we’ll have those memories to look back on. I agree about the kid mind, so open and adventurous. Tough to keep that spirit going. But we do our best. I’m glad you liked this one!

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      1. yeh, crazy isn’t it like that older guy you met was saying about memories…..just be attentive as much as possible and every scene contains everything in the universe if we perceive it right – pitfalls and quicksand and meeting a spark and i’m drunk and the sun is still out. Uh oh.

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