consequences.

It only took an hour.

Earlier this afternoon,

I realized we’d be running

for awhile, before the words

even had time to attach themselves. 

Somehow, I wasn’t worried…

She drove most of the way,

he remained silent,

thinking of what to say.

Sitting in the back seat,

watching the fast paced world speed by outside,

and the slow creep of time inside,

I was reminded of this dream I use to have

when I was a child.

If ever a time existed for either of us.

A man who would sit outside this house,

playing cards,

each card had a symbol and a portent,

each time I had the dream,

a different deck of cards

Maybe it was the sunlight

bouncing off the clouds

and onto the ground that reminded me of the sky that shone above that man’s house that triggered recollection.

I Haven’t had that dream in years.

Haven’t dreamed in months.

Later, that afternoon,

as we watched him

shuffle himself

and his consciousness

back to the car,

I could feel her smile

shattering onto the floor.

     

Tiny, sharp fragments

nipping at my heals.

          

“This should’ve been better.”

     

The words managed to stick

themselves to the cuts.

          

Blood clotting themselves onto oblivion.

josephmcabral.com

dead letters for living people