I walk your streets when darkness kisses the ground. I don’t skulk – I belong wherever I decide I wish to be. I do keep to the shadows, but only because I’m not pretty and don’t like being reminded that it matters.
Besides, trust me…I don’t want to talk to you any more than you want to look at me.
I stare into your lighted windows, portals to what I am now a stranger to, and try to discern what magic gravitational field exists in there that keeps your feet on this side of terra firma when so many of us slipped right through the crack. Whether it appears to you as a fissure or a chasm makes no nevermind; one misstep and *pfft* you’re the squalling baby surfing the tide of the bathwater.
With determination you can clamber back out for a nighttime sojourn, but never to stay. The pull that the underside exerts is physical. As dawn’s light starts to creep across the horizon like a cat burglar doing the walk of shame, your feet will turn themselves towards the closest pool of blackness to slip you back home. By that time you’re most likely ready to go anyway. The world up here now is a reflection in a fun house mirror and the people that loved you don’t even bother to see right through you since they don’t see you at all.
I need to figure out how it is that we can stand outside and look in on them and their comforts, and yet they cannot look out and see us in the miasma. If I can’t answer that question…well, then none of us will ever get to go home again.
….because I know more people falling through the cracks than dancing around them…
Trifecta Week 86 challenges us to write between 33-333 words using the word….wait for it….
1a : a loud roll or peal
b : a sudden sharp noise
2: a sharp witty remark : quip
3a : a narrow break : fissure
b : a narrow opening —used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out