A flash in the pan in Flash Friday

“If you don’t love me, be kind and lie,” her voice all ripe almond and death.
“Be kind” pastilles, vanilla, cloying and coy. And death.
I saw my own body as if from above, pale and balding, outlined in greens and something darker. There are things in this world known and things unknown. There are things we don’t want to know.

I was a bird once, a large bird, a fast bird. There is an eloquence to silent flight and an elegance to cold blood. A large fast bird is never asked ‘Do you love me?’ The rabbit in the field twitchs to say ‘please make it quick’ and runs his broken pattern.

I knew this woman once who set all the things of me on fire. She mistook something else for passion. Or maybe she just mistook passion, either way the flames burn as deep. Love? She said no quarter asked, none given with a rabbit twitch and a brass zippo.

I hear the whistle of the commuter train crossing Bennett road. I’m jealous. Not of the people going home, just of the going. When I was a bird I was always going.