free on a saturday night,
but don’t read too much into that,
because sometimes it’s as innocent as it sounds,
and sometimes it means i’m practicing hermetic living
for reasons beyond comprehension,
i mean,
why would i want to get into it?
every time i hear a loud noise outside
in the dead of night,
i assume there’s some boogeyman come to
collect a toll i didn’t realize i needed to pay,
don’t pass go,
don’t say ho-ho-whoa
eyelashes pickled in tears made
from swimming in dreams shut down and outsourced
to developing countries that can dream cheaper
by the hour
by far
ending a game of musical chairs for the purpose
of stepping out into the hallway to have a very, serious, conversation
with our kids’ future teacher who doesn’t
believe in math
but keeps adding the slumbering numbers to
find the answer to abstract equations
left in fields
of grass
of blood
Fred Aiken Writing 