(June 13, 2010)

It got very stormy last night. The power has shut down now and hasn’t been on since the early hours of the morning. It’s now leaning toward noon. The rain is heavy and steady. A drum roll on the rooftop. My home is shadowy.

I press a hand against the glass front window. Peer out.

I can’t see anyone. The water is a shimmer. The pane of glass like a fountain, melting into the sill, refreshing from the top again. Two fingerprints smudge.

I can’t see out.

No one can see in.

A cat in a locked box.

A sense of decay.

The internet has fallen away, my phone service has died, though on occasion it does still ring. I don’t answer it. Unknown numbers aren’t such.

You run to the edge of the darkness and remove communication, have you fallen or do you float?

Pinching particles. Russian roulette with three bullets in a six shooter.