She looked into the night sky and pondered her place.
Perhaps she was just a gathering of dust on a rocky mote flying through emptiness.
It made her feel small and insignificant,
Refuse of exploded suns long since forgotten in the cosmic background.
If that was it, well, that was still pretty cool.
The fact that her ancestors were ancient suns lightened her soul, and her smile lit up the night.
Boy could those men tell you stories amid the smell of talc and aftershave
About times in the past that people have forgotten
Remembering with such clarity the neighborhood throughout time
Because they had been there for a combined hundred-sixty years
Everyone came there to sit in those ancient green chairs and listen raptly
Relishing their experience with those historians. The haircuts weren’t too bad either.
Dim stars twinkled from far overhead
Overwhelming ancient history is written in those heavens
Mary contemplated how her short existence fit in all of that
Eventually, she embraced her cousins since they were all made of the dust of creation
Feeling ancient, well beyond his years
Oliver groaned, stretched, and popped a few vertebrae back in place
So many stairs to climb to get to his bed made him shake his head
So heavy limbs, like they were made of stone
It made him want to just lay down here for all of eternity
Laughing, he thought he now knew how the dinosaurs felt
Age practically dripped from his eyes
Narrow crevices in his cheeks channeled it to his down turned lips
Catching on the stubble of his six day old white beard
It collected there until large drops of it plopped to the ground below
Eyeing those around him, he wondered if they realized how quickly time moved
Nothing had prepared him for that rapid transition
Too bad he couldn’t tell time to get off his lawn, else he might be fertilizing it
This for that is as ancient as any system of commerce
Reliable if both parties have something the other wanted
Although sometimes you needed a larger circle to get the deal done
Donnie wanted that old system to come back into prominence
Eventually, someone would then take his life for something meaningful
Too many times he had gone back to the pump
He was doing it again even now
It wasn’t going to change anything. The water wouldn’t be there
Reaching for the ancient handle, he pumped it up and down vigorously
Staring at the dusty spout, begging for a hint of liquid to form at its edge
They found him there two weeks later still searching for a drink