Maybe it did,
your death, take these things and having it done now, saying finished, over, transitioned, free, is only false hiatus of real time out-of-focus except for the journey babe, the journey being this train now, train like thoughts of regret that is mere in memory except for moments like this as car after car after passing fucking car blurs on in the synapse of echoing permanence and this sudden goodbye jolts me to hell, pinning me to the unpredictable All that includes its red flash of lights, this flare of signals with safety arms down, and I have nothing, nothing to protect me from the deafening spell of inescapable flurry like the stupidity of life thrown in for the blank reel of gone going on in unending tracks.
John J. Trause
He was embarrassed to realize that in all his mug shots he wore the same shirt.
When You See The Heart-Shaped Neon Sign Put On The Brakes The Motel Is Just On The Other Side
She read, peeking down at the phone in her lap the instant before the pale dim burning heart was visible, missing her turn but barely.
Thoroughly embarrassed and fearing further humiliation from the other motorists, he slung the damaged car over his shoulder and began the long walk home.
In the oncology waiting room, the giggling little girl squirmed on her brother’s lap as he poked at her nose, eyes and ears while her father sneaked up behind like Godzilla.