Slippery

by Steve Mitchell

Ahead, in the center lane, there’s a slow moving truck.  Traffic flows around it.

I think of a boulder, at rest, in a fast stream.

It’s nice to think of nature.

But, wait.  The truck and the traffic are made of the same stuff.

It’d make more sense to imagine a boulder, at rest, in a fast stream of boulders, a stream of lethal, hard-charging boulders flowing down a hill and bunching up behind a slow moving boulder before rolling around it, no, not a stream at all, maybe, but an avalanche of boulders.  Yeah, an avalanche of boulders, and the boulders are piloted by impatient primates, by monkeys, by crazy, little monkeys, by self-absorbed, aggressive, careless monkeys hell-bent on escaping the boulder avalanche while cursing the lone, hapless, slow-rolling monkey, on the slow moving boulder, in the middle of the boulder avalanche, for keeping them from their appointed, monkey duties.

Yeah.

It’s nice to think of nature.




he drops a pebble
into a hole
filled with pond

—-

© Steve Mitchell 2015

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