Ten years

It was the hammering of the nails, the chains, the chairs, the flat tire, and the basketball court that did us in. Ten years of wild world haven’t done us any good. Now we crawl all over the earth. They all thought we would succeed, cream of the crop, but now we can’t even converge on a single point of light.

We all did our bit that day. Each of us. No one saw – we were sure, weren’t we. But if we were to see each other now, I don’t know how we would avoid the unmistakable flicker behind our eyes. It would surely give us away. Untie that cord around that beam, and let it loose now. Or cut it with your Stanley knife, and watch the body swing wildly from left to right.