Large Megellanic

This is not a story. My eyes see everything. An empty Captain Crunch box, the prize stolen by a sibling. Finding my first and only wife dead, an overdose. Two-a-day practices for the East Valley Falcons during the summer of 1980, so intense that one teenager died from heat exhaustion. This is not a story. The ant crawling across my bathroom mirror that survived the pesticide from yesterday’s spraying. An unconquerable web of freeway traffic. A man driving a tractor trailer with someone tied up in his cabin. A mother strung out on Ambien, sleeping on the couch, her four-year-old boy, curious, roaming. A loaded shotgun, hidden away in the back of some closet. This is not a story. Married people, together, but silent, looking at smartphones, on computers, alone in their Bluetooth headphones. Never knowing anything. But always hoping. For something that resembles “the best.” There is a fear and hopelessness so great in the world that it makes us happy when we feel something that drives us toward madness. A broad pancake of stars, deep within the disk of the Milky Way. A swath of space gas hanging like a spider’s web, entangling all the heavens within and without. This is not a story. My eyes see everything: A spread out carpet of light existing in the giant black ink of space. 

Forever in the process of self-destruction.

Taylor calls: "Just saw 'Life of the Party.' Loved it."