Penny Hostages

I was learning. As all skin does. By error, folly and shame. Matchstick and tissue parachutes. Tiny planes. Not ready to land. I was learning. As flesh must. That time is the villain. And the victim. In this franchise some call love.

I greet the ocean. As I have all my deaths. With a curious caution.

The war lasting only minutes. Falling down. Greeting the ground with my face. Looking up. From the dirt. The sky arrogant with winners I never knew were my enemy. I was learning. Or trying to. The cull of the cement as it scraped my shins. Trying to walk.

The calamity. Bold muscles. Eager to punch the button. The ghost. In his chair. Solving problems I've yet to come across. The almost empty chair. Splinters and adrenaline. A dismal stopwatch. That long ago elapsed.

This skin on my bones. Musty drapes too dirty to wash. All those hours. Fucked like prostitutes. Still want to be paid.