the currents of space
the current of time
the currents of mind,
flowing and swirling and whirling
through free throw verses
on and on
till the circular rounds the corner
to find a sharp edge metastasizing
into a cancerous mole
that grows into a geometric pandemic
until the currents
are stopped by the fascism of numbers
wanting to know what it all
adds up to, and still not finding a summation
a spider came right up to me
while i walked down this path
in a park near my house,
and i asked the spider,
what kinda spider are you?
and the spider told me that it was rude of me to ask,
how dare i,
so i apologized and tried to get past the spider,
but the spider kept following me
until i was left with no other options
i stepped on the spider with my right foot,
and as the spider lay dying,
breathing with its small squashed spider lungs,
the spider asked,
why’d you do that?
i was just trying to get to class
all resumes look like
business to-do lists,
or business trophy shelves of empty accomplishments and
skill sets that no longer look impressive,
now that a computer can do them much better and faster,
though at least i get to keep my business card
Fred Aiken Writing 