The rhinestone headstones blink in the sunlight. A sunbeam traces our contact across space and time, and makes each shimmering wave on Lake Michigan brand new.
A rainbow chases us from below. Did God know his covenant would be seen from this angle? They must have asked the same in Babel.
Such a treat, a delight, to live when small things like these are called horrors.
A circle, a perfect portal, somewhere in Ohio. I hope that some madman insisted on its size and shape, his vision not visible from its shores. I want to find him and tell him he was right, but he already knows. Unless...
We're falling now. A lightning bolt's fingers slowly crackle through the woods, curl hither and thither behind houses, and strike near the detention pond.
Another rhinestone graveyard surrounded by empty diamonds. I never see the games, but the manicured dirt and grass remind me I'm still in America. I've found the zeroth amendment. Every school, park, and corporate subdivision must be capable of hosting at least 9 innings in times of extreme nostalgia.
My greatest fear is that I misunderstood Christ when I come to him like a child.
This all started because I showed up to the airport 5 hours early. That and corporate said no more booze on the cards. And someone opened a shock booth in Terminal D.
It's better than you think. Believe it or not, I used to be an alcoholic. I traveled too much. Spent too much time away. Maybe a little anxious, but whatever it was, I drank too much.
So I approached the shock booth with caution. It's fine though. The newsstands and bookshops are gone, and if you don't drink, you take what you can get.
Start with 9 volts on your tongue. That'll tell you if you like it, or can like it. Personally, I'm up to 110 alternating, 3 seconds or so. THAT is a shock.
I guess we'll never know why shocks work so well for us (former) drinkers. But I'm glad it's here, and now I never miss a flight.
Drunk! No worries, smooth.
Drunk. Sleep listening to economists and Europeans.
Drunk... get coffee. The past and future become present and worthy of consideration.
The whitecaps on the lake are swimmers bobbing for their turn with a beach ball, drunk. I didn't even notice the buildings disappear and come back.
We're all trying our best and it's working out. Every streetlight that I see from above is a testament to a plan, maybe 100 different plans.
I haven't looked up for the old gods, but I see. Maybe our creations will be abominations. Maybe it will be the end.
But for a moment, from above, I see the effort. The things we've built, even suburbs to let our children play, and cars to get our children to a hospital as quickly as possible, and I see its beauty.
Fuck the stars and the stones. For better or worse the beauty I see now was created with love. At worst the stars are tests, at best they're random decoration. For as much as I hate them, every line of subdivision was traced with love. Love of money or else! But love nonetheless.
I hope soon that the love extends to our neighbors. Although a zoo would be love for most, a CAFO is love for some.
I looked up from the window. I wish you could live forever. I'd bring you to the comfiest field on Earth and watch the stars like fireworks.