They were like us only better
a mix of everything we are not
similarities only arising in the exterior
same pug noses, same freckled cheeks
but underneath the superficial
they were simple mechanical operators
(more) less complex, and fundamentally more stable
than our jumble of wires and motherboards
growing slimmer and smaller each passing day
they lived lives of magnificence
we live our lives microscopically
the world was not enough room for them
they wanted space and beyond
the world is too big for us
we exist in cables and satellite signals
compacting our information into bites
instead of vast ancient libraries
They were drawn together, magnetized; or they were thrown.
This process was relatively quick, or maybe it was slow, this being dependent mainly on one's vantage point. Two bodies in motion(more) will appear to be on different trajectories, at different speeds, depending upon where they are viewed from.
Chicago, Illinois; Klamath Falls, Oregon; Longview, Texas; Santa Cruz, California; Seattle, Washington;
How could the impending intersection look the same from these wildly unique locations?
She just wanted to be enrolled in a dance class. He loved frogs. The classes never worked out; but it's not like she could just not dance. Perfect, little jumping wonders, brightest green; there were a few times he killed them on accident. She melted her fuzzy coat on the heater at a Chinese restaurant. He broke his cat's tail and didn't tell anyone about it for ten years.
There isn't enough time left in life to satisfactorily map these trajectories. Two people, gaining on each other; creating and withstanding various onslaughts,
equivalently amassing and diminishing;
somehow, blind and sparkling, emerging
in the same place and the same time.
Her toughest scar, on a tough body, is from a hoop earring, torn out while working on the floor of a stock exchange. He has a scar on his middle finger from crashing his bicycle into a stop sign. Her favorite scar is shaped like a worm on her wrist, earned by disagreeing with a locked door made of glass. His best scar is a zipper on his left palm where a sharp 3/8" chisel entered.
Open mapped, and now arriving;
They were are will be found.
He looked at her eyes when they couldn't not cry. She kept picking him up in a car with no brakes.
They tend to call each other by their full names.(less)
He wasn't certain what he was seeing. It could have been a dark rain cloud, or a flock of birds, or a haze of smoke, or a swarm of locusts...
As it came closer, cresting the drought-browned, rolling hills, he eliminated the gaseous options. Individual shapes were diving(more) and twisting into and out of the roiling mass, dark and ominous and collectively hyperactive.
But he wasn't worried. Natural or unnatural, local or foreign, planetary or extra-terrestrial, they could be, at worst, harmless, and were more likely to be somehow beneficial. A year of karmic imbalance had devastated him and taken everything. The tides of fate would change. They were destined to change.
The dangling, blood-soaked bones clicking in the wind above his doorway had declared it to be so.
As the cloud of shapes came closer, he touched the long scar on the back of his dangling, blood-soaked wrist, felt the absence of structure where once the bones had been.
They must be birds, migrating around the raging fires to the west. They could not be locusts; he had been assured of it. The bones would not allow it.
They were just like the others. Mean spirited, spiteful and at times, could kill a man forty yards out with just a glance. They swept up the townsfolk with disdainful glee, and gave not a notion to what the protectorate wanted.
What was wanted was a showdown, last man(more) standing duel till the last body dropped from either exhaustion or from being riddled with lead. Someone out among the crowd shouted mockery at the three masked banditos. Time stood still in the street as these masked gunmen surveyed the crowd, and talked amongst themselves. It had been only a few hours before that they listed their demands and demanded the towns money or their lives. They only wanted what they came for, but the crowd-nay the town itself had witnessed violence of any type. The sheriff and few deputy's had become sluggish and stupid from the lack of activity.
The townsfolk were not cowed, but also not worried. They were just ignorant in the ways of these men and their methods. Demands are shouted once more with great gusto and a few warning shots are fired.
Men, women, and children of this crowd did not even blink. Did not even waver or make any movements of any kind noticeable. The only problem with this crowd was exactly that, they didn't show signs of a robust community. No one screamed, or cried, or made prayers to gods. They didn't argue, or jostle each other to look at the brigands. Not even bodily movements could be heard over the howl of the winds.
The masked men stared at this crowd with interest. Why didn't they run? Why didn't they try and stop them, get the cops? They were uneasy, never had this happen before.
The problem with this crowd....They stopped being alive. (less)