Every Day Pink Peony Plains, rolling plains on both sides of me.
Deep blue sky, endless as far as the eye can see. An off-white car, no luggage on the top. The grasses: Stubby, lifeless. The sun drains away all energy. The sky: Laughing, hauntingly blue. Only getting darker as the days move on. The car. I’m alone with no one, With a key in the engine but it’s turned off. Pillows, fluffy bags of feathers, envelop me. Only, they’re not made of feathers, but of synthetic polyester. I’m stranded, with nowhere to go, with no cash in my back pocket, with no sense of time, with no gas in the tank, with no spare tire, with no phone, with no one to communicate with. Filled with a deep sense of dread and cries of pain. Why did I run away? Life’s too narrow, and I can’t fit in it. I only have a bag of oyster crackers, that are too salty, and a bottle of water that is empty.
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