67/365 - Long Driveways
When you look at me, it’s a swooping dare of instinct that communicates deadly intent along the wire from predator to prey. The quivering acquiescence of a humble foodstuff in the face of pure physical superiority. I would feel the same if I looked into the jaws of a Tyrannosaurus Rex. I would not run. I would merely be food. There would be no other option. It would be my place in the universe, the food chain, and our relationship.
For every shopping list that becomes a hit man, there are too many that go the other direction, that wane to safety in the shadows and are content to be part of the river of history, not the crags that tear it open. If one builds towers to heaven, one must be prepared to meet God.
Peel the smiles off our knowing corpses because we’ll be keeping those secrets. All the grease in Tanzania won’t make these wheels squeak. If you want a sharp-angled rescue then simply come home. My scissored arms await your pliant body. We can take turns when it comes to the killing.
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For every shopping list that becomes a hit man, there are too many that go the other direction, that wane to safety in the shadows and are content to be part of the river of history, not the crags that tear it open. If one builds towers to heaven, one must be prepared to meet God.
Peel the smiles off our knowing corpses because we’ll be keeping those secrets. All the grease in Tanzania won’t make these wheels squeak. If you want a sharp-angled rescue then simply come home. My scissored arms await your pliant body. We can take turns when it comes to the killing.
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