| cancer At night, God rides his motorcycle through the skies while we sleep. The angels follow; they ride Harleys too. They laugh and yell to one another over the roar of their bikes. Black smoke and laughter rise almost to the moon. God looks down on the Earth and sees that it is good. His cigar glows red. He inhales; feels his lungs tighten, the familiar rush to his head. He smiles. It is all so good. Engines and angels screaming over the tops of clouds, God reaches his fist over the Earth below. He opens his hand and sprinkles the land and sea with millions of tiny, baby cancer cells. They make no sound, as they fall wild. When the engines and smoke have long faded away, the cells reach the Earth. Some land in water, others on trees, and some fall on the sleepers. Maybe sometime you've awakened in the middle of the night to the sound of a car or a bike fading in the distance. Maybe you wondered, "Who on Earth could be out so late, driving so fast? Who in the world has somewhere that important to go?" Maybe then you felt something brush your face like a loose hair, felt something just barely touch you then disappear. Maybe you looked at the time and thought you'd better get back to sleep. It will be morning time soon. Time to get up and go out into the light of just another day. |
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| duende2112 Arturo Vasquez II 2000 |