Looking to the sky, I can't even get an answer as to its color. My eyes skip a few bands of the visible spectrum, blending hues when they color out. The blue gone gray caught in the fire of a sinking sun, the sinking of distinction into the long sigh of so much shadow. Overcast and underwhelming, another dusk too cool for the revel of bats and bugs. Another dusk bereft of anything but direction, night in tireless pursuit.
My bifocals are tilted back upon my head, though I can't remember what it was I thought I was reading. Magazine stacks growing along with my indifference. An article on psychiatric meds finished before the whole deal went into the recycling. A lot of photosynthesis and industry just so I can tilt my head and raise my brow. In a world that needs to measure you in wishes, contentment becomes a red flag for sedition.
I swallow cold water, feel the generosity of various aches as their chorus tunes up. The wind sweeps down for a drink. The day hurries as it settles its affairs. Cars rush and children squeal. Things that happened move slightly aside, and what might be lines up in queues of probability, pushing and shoving their way into tomorrow.
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