forgotten words hit compressed lips searching for the meaning in an orderly fashion
in search of a definition lost with the Dewey Decimal System
as fall branches write the curvature of the world in broken glances to the stars
bespectacled in sunglasses so the brightness doesn’t blind the night sky
fervently waiting for a peace of mind sitting at the end of the rainbow as the tale comes
to an end and writes itself off. STAGE RIGHT
The smell hit before I laid eyes on it. I knew from the olfactory sensation it would be something special, something that would surpass my wildest imaginations.
It had felt like a lifetime ago, decades worth of anticipation and waiting. I never thought this day would come. I’m still in a bit of shock that it’s actually here now. If I weren’t alone, I’d probably have someone pinch me…though there would be no real point in that.
Pinch me, I must be dreaming.
I’m certainly not one of those sorts of individuals that enjoy physical pain being inflicted upon me in order to tell whether or not I’m conscious. I will perhaps never be the smartest person in the room, even when alone, but I feel as if I would be able to tell, you know, whether or not I were conscious. Maybe not if I was in a simulation, at least not a realistic one. But thank goodness virtual reality was so visually decrepit during my time.
The idea came about as a bit of a spark of inspiration years ago. But it wasn’t until I met my business partner, Dave, a few months back that things started to click and take off. This day seemed like it would never come.
Yet here Dave and I stood, at the precipice, waiting. I hope I didn’t build it up too much to the point that it would inevitably disappoint.
I feel like no matter what, I might be disappointed. Ever the pessimist. Ever the naysayer.
Maybe this wasn’t such a great idea after all.
Maybe Dave and I should cut our losses and pack it up and go home. All for naught.
But it was much too late to back out of this now. We were committed. The curtains revealed…
Fred Aiken Writing 