Ziggy Floyd remains paranoid. Black Sabbath shaking floorboards; apartment walls blasted by song. Quartering half-life of “Ambien Moments.” Nothing working. Had to pace—sleepless with test anxiety, jittery, fighting wee-hour hangover nausea.
….Tap-tap-tap—pencil taps…. Quit your side conversations you’re supposed to be proctoring!
Unprepared for breakdown, the rest of his life, Ziggy recalls bombing the LSAT.
Lily held a leftover summer sparkler before her face. Together, enclasped hands sway strolling lakeside. Life renewed. She touched the thumbnail band aide signaling turns from concussion.
Could barely remember myself—only her—powdery sweet mixing with conditioned hair, scratched skin. Enlightened in arms, my solitary thought after hours’ oblivion stood thanking stars we made it alive.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ The above Flash 55 was for written for my friend G-Man.
A clear IV connects painkiller, grandma’s last rites, and Sunday morning. Fidgeting in pink admittance gown, you could tell she hates her wheelchair—getting used to it John supposed. She was always so free in love and expletives…
His first word was “shit” looking on from a high chair—Grandma mashed peas yelling.
“Maya, come here.” Her demand facing death; grandson’s sad life had been revealed to a stranger.
Approaching light brown-haired nurse smiles as if they shared history.
“This is my grandson; the detective I told you about.”
“Grandma,” he chuckles pointing at her suspiciously.
Maya sits in a metal cafeteria chair between estranged lives.
Ziggy Floyd remains paranoid. Black Sabbath shaking floorboards; apartment walls blasted by song. Quartering half-life of “Ambien Moments.” Nothing working. Had to pace—sleepless with test anxiety, jittery, fighting wee-hour hangover nausea.
The above Flash 55 was for written for my friend G-Man.
A clear IV connects painkiller, grandma’s last rites, and Sunday morning. Fidgeting in pink admittance gown, you could tell she hates her wheelchair—getting used to it John supposed. She was always so free in love and expletives…
