The Hit

by

Chris Lahren

Cancel my mind. Those actions that falter upon the very thought that creates. Delete the
spaces that become nonsense, we can make it better now. Which denomination are you?
Are you cataclismic? Are you Arabian or Mongol? Past or present? Has or has been?
Samples of coffee cake on the coffee table at coffee break...
We’ll have a bake sale, raise alot of dough. Nuts we all are, yes, sitting on the porch with
our canes and Ovaltine. The drink our fathers gave us to grow up big and strong, just like
Elvis. Are we the Wheaties generation? We seize every grain of truth and make it
crunchier, stays so in milk as time wastes away in our bowl.
Simple, let’s keep it all so simple. Do you understand? How we can become
simple like single cell amoeba.
Remember simple? Remember as you always do, sitting under some tree as a
child? Staring up at the clouds in the warm fresh springtime air you become the sunshine,
whispering as the breeze comes across your newly formed nose that smells everything
you’ll miss as a child. This was simple. No conflict, no egos, no putrid odors. You still
dreamed with meaning, not nonsense. At least you could connect your dreams with
reality. You questioned everything before truth became distorted by political ambitions
and controlling influences. You’d mimic violence for fun. You’d dress up like your
heroes. Everything was black and white....

UNTIL IT HIT YOU.
It may have been of any age or come in any form. Depending on the
circumstances that surround your soul, it may hit you sooner or later. You’ll never recall
the moment, save a few traumatic life circumstances, that it hit you. Time blends it all into
young adulthood. You can never remember that instant, but gradually it invades one by
one. You find that you have to conform now, no more childish thoughts or actions. You
find that your dreams actually are those fairy tales that only belong to children.

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NEXT?
Why don't you look at Trees.
by: Fred Mason
from: Auckland, NZ

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