miracles come in small packages, i've heard but so do bombs and kittens and broken glass. but this was no small package and the nickelodeon flubber green plastic-looking bag was breathing or birthing or breaching. i couldn't tell and thought of approaching it but flashes from hitchcock movies and alien films danced across the screen in my memory. or maybe like in the old days like candid camera and as i approached something would jump out caught on tape to embarrass me by later, with a host who came out from behind a parked car and said 'smile.' maybe it's the host in the bag. maybe it's the bit of undigested beef stew that scrooge talked about. maybe it's an hallucination and it's time for me to go home.
the weather mild i decide to take an easy stroll not too far i think, just a friendly round, round the neighborhood passing each home i gaze new growth abounds color splashed landscaping like that from a childs spin art paint wheel
breathing, smiling, noticing a green bag up ahead no other thoughts urgent so i ponder this bags contents the lawn is still long i see so no clippings of grass too soon for fallen leaves (wrong season and all) maybe discards of clothing headed to goodwill?
as my brain plays with possibilities the bag begings to shake i stop short, heart quick beats oh no, not rat not snake mind now blinking the code for danger, danger, danger
i hear a little vrooming noise confusion comes in quick breaths then something a flick of light or shadow and in a window i can see two young heads hands over mouths with wild giggles playful mocking, no malice
i give a look that cries 'uncle' both boys smile wide bag shakes more and more plastic begins to stretch whatever is in wants out waiting to be born noise amplifies vroommm and screech then bursting forth the remote control monster truck growls running fast stopping at my feet
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2 comments:
the green bag
by dot
miracles come in small packages, i've heard
but so do bombs and kittens and broken glass.
but this was no small package and
the nickelodeon flubber green plastic-looking bag was breathing
or birthing
or breaching.
i couldn't tell and thought of approaching it
but flashes from hitchcock movies and alien films
danced across the screen in my memory.
or maybe like in the old days
like candid camera and as i approached something would jump out
caught on tape to embarrass me by later,
with a host who came out from behind a parked car
and said
'smile.'
maybe it's the host in the bag.
maybe it's the bit of undigested beef stew that scrooge talked about.
maybe it's an hallucination and it's time for me to go home.
and maybe i'm asleep.
dreaming.
or wish i was.
playful bag
by Deb
the weather mild
i decide to take an easy stroll
not too far i think, just a friendly
round, round the neighborhood
passing each home i gaze
new growth abounds
color splashed landscaping
like that from a childs
spin art paint wheel
breathing, smiling, noticing
a green bag up ahead
no other thoughts urgent
so i ponder this bags contents
the lawn is still long i see
so no clippings of grass
too soon for fallen leaves
(wrong season and all)
maybe discards of clothing
headed to goodwill?
as my brain plays with possibilities
the bag begings to shake
i stop short, heart quick beats
oh no, not rat not snake
mind now blinking the code
for danger, danger, danger
i hear a little vrooming noise
confusion comes in quick breaths
then something
a flick of light or shadow
and in a window i can see
two young heads
hands over mouths with
wild giggles
playful mocking, no malice
i give a look that cries 'uncle'
both boys smile wide
bag shakes more and more
plastic begins to stretch
whatever is in wants out
waiting to be born
noise amplifies
vroommm and screech
then bursting forth
the remote control
monster truck
growls running fast
stopping at my feet
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