Mine, where is mine?
Mine, I just want what’s mine
Mine, the dank place I ventured to find it
Mine, get away!
Mine, it’s all mine so get your own
Mine, not yours
Mine, to covet
Mine, to possess
Mine, to worry about
Mine, to own
Mine, my own thoughts, my own mind
Mine, my misery
Mine, mine, mine!
Mine … alone
They say the candle
that burns on both ends
leaves you nothing safely to hold onto and
eventually you get burned.
While burnt, I still feel,
I feel I already gave,
Feel I gave a full measure.
For us and between us.
I filled you up,
Filled up to one tenth near
Too worried your glass would overflow.
But you needed more
More to the edge I poured,
Poured sweat from fumes.
Out of gas, hollowed out,
I pushed my limits so much so
I lost sight of the prize,
Her long arms reached down to take the hand of The Wondrous Child then immediately she felt her pull her towards the entrance to the tree cave. “Let’s go!” shouted the child with glee. “Oh no, there’s a gl ade we could check first on the other side. Have you been there yet?” replied The Siren. “Why no, I haven’t. Is it pretty there?” asked the child. “Very! And I know a shortcut,” stated The Siren with a knowingness as she gathered the hanging hem of her silky dress. …
The Wondrous Child
Her small, cherubic hands rubbed against the long, velvety grass to frantically wipe off sap from the tree she pushed against. She peered across the meadow to an opening in the trunk of a massive tree. The tree created a canopy of pastel leaves across its branches and over a forest floor filled with yellow wildflowers. The Wondrous Child bounded across the grass, sunlight dappling on her dress as she went. Her excitement beamed in her smile and she laughed playfully as she slowed before the tree and the leaf-shaped opening in it’s bark. …
Dad was attempting to alleviate my anguish. I was going though a rough patch and he was consoling me, as he had on many occasions. He said it was like the pebble that drops into a calm pond and immediately creates a splash and ripples extend out then diminish. As it sinks it disappears and the surface returns to serenity. In my troubled mind, I misunderstood him. I agreed that this moment like the splash of the pebble would be momentary and that all I was concerned with would go back to normal. But that’s not the lesson he wanted…
It was a late, rainy night. I needed a rescue.
“Oh no!” I thought to myself as my Miata careened across five lanes of the northbound 805 before merging with the I-5. I was just trying to pass up the 18-wheeler who drifted into the fast lane I was in. Turning the steering wheel to the right, to slide into the №2 lane, I began to hydroplane in the new rain landing on the slick highway. Instantaneously, so many thoughts came flooding.
“Uh, it’s not stopping despite the brakes and I have no control.”
“Damnit, I just got this out…
Fingers grasping lightly around the smooth contours of the cool glass. Condensation slides over my hand as I place the glass on the table. Whoa! The table teeters, rocks right into place. I catch the glass. Whew! This table, the one you left behind after your abrupt departure. It’s unsteady, shaky, unbalanced. The fixer impulse as I look for something to put under foot. Ah! A matchbook unused, unlit, a perfect wedge. I softly place the glass back on the table, on a slight puddle of water. Huh? As if on its own volition it slides left, hydroplaning to a spot unintended. Just as you did with your life. Oh. It seems stable at the moment but I’m still unsure, uncertain of the matchbook, the table, the glass, and my reflexes. Hmm. So, I walk away from the table as I’m no longer thirsty.
Orange is not one of the choices. Somewhere between red and yellow I hesitate. Cautious yellow: both my friend and my nemesis. Crossing into the busy unknown conflicts with the feeling of getting there. It was green only a moment ago. Permission to move forward is unquestioned maybe assumed. Green comes with confidence, assuredness, about my right of way. Green feels good. Then, that yellow glows and interrupts the green like some harbinger of change and direction. It signals whether to move faster or to cool my jets because — because of red.
I time the beats of my ambition…
I was waiting so long for life to present itself. The big reveal that continues to escape me. I’ve grown tired of the passive life, sitting on the shelf, with the expiration date as inevitable as a stoplight to turn from red, to yellow, to green. Go! I must! Leave my past in the fast escaping rear view mirror, reflecting a life already disappearing on the asphalt under me. I declare independence from the basic life as it is stale and tasteless. Give me liberty but not give me debt to a life unappreciated.
Carpe diem! I want to keep…
Hi, my name is Anthony. I’m five.
Hi Anthony, how did you find me?
My teacher at school. She said you’re really really far away.
About 9 billion light years. Yeah, its really far.
The news on my mommy’s phone said they just found you. Were you lost?
I’ve always been here. You just couldn’t see my light. My sun rays take a long time to get to you.
Uh-huh. Hmm. You look cold. Are you cold?
I’m actually quite hot. About 500 times hotter than where you are.
Ooh hot! Hotter than the sun?
Yes, three times hotter. But…
Kekauililani is Ross Goo's middle name. He is a short story writer who started creative writing screenplays at the university studying film and filmmaking.