the ink
in the pen
of my mind
has dried
the passion
in my view
of the world
has resigned
the expression
has left
my hands
and my eyes
what is left
is not
worth
mentioning

summer
took flight
on a cool
august night.
fall slipped by
as a sigh
in november.
winter remained
till april's
heavy rains
washed it
away.
then june's sun
cooked through
and everything here
was
new. the end

Really Strange Things

Herbert Woosh was a very peaceful man. He had worked as an accountant for the same firm for the past thirteen years. He had been married to the same woman for sixteen and was a stable if sometimes bland and out of touch father to two young children. On December 19th, 1997 the boy was 8 and the girl 10. Herbert worked late hours in December each year. The holiday put a marked strain on the family's otherwise decent income. He had taken to coming home at nine and ten o'clock, sometimes sleeping at the office and not returning until the sun woke him up early in the morning.

Lily Woosh never worried about whether Herbert was actually at the office. She wouldn't have thought to, because Herbert wouldn't have had the foresight or the cunning to design the lies necessary to deceive. He was an honest and well-meaning man, if boring at times, and distant. Lily noticed a slight change come over Herbert in the weeks before the holiday. It happened somewhat every year, but she had ceased to worry about it. Christmas was always so lovely that it seemed to make it alright, and Herbert always felt fine once January rolled around.

Herbert didn't question his role during the holiday season. Just as he didn't question going to Maine during his only two week vacation every July to visit Lily's sister Marge and her husband Jim.

On December 18, 1997, Herbert had gone to work at six in the morning. An hour early to make up for one missed last week. He had accidentally fallen asleep and was late in the morning because he had to rush home and shower. On the 18th Herbert drank coffee all day long, and on his lunch break ate in the car while making a quick trip to the jeweler's to pick up the ring he was buying for Lily. He knew she wanted a diamond very badly, and he wanted to make this holiday memorable for her. It required excessive hours at the office, but he felt that it would probably be worth it.

On the way to the jeweler he swerved while trying to put the burger wrapper into the little brown bag. It frightened him significantly. He adjusted his glasses, straightened up and made his way very carefully from that point on. He worked straight through five oclock without a break. He had set a goal for himself to complete three accounts in the afternoon. He was determined not to go home until they were all finished. The Starsky account turned out to be extremely cumbersome and complicated. At eight o'clock Herbert realized that the work would take at least two more hours to finish. He took a short break and ate a bag of pretzels, never getting up from his dim little cubicle; the light on his desk the only one illuminated in the very large room.

Herbert had underestimated the work load at eight o'clock and did not notice when the hands on the clock slipped past eleven. Herbert had stopped drinking coffee at six, not wanting it to keep him awake all night. Herbert did not notice when he fell asleep on top of his desk. He did not notice when he drooled on the paperwork.

At six thirty in the morning Herbert sat straight up in his seat. His glasses had fallen off in his sleep. He did not pick them up. He did not grab his jacket and he did not tie his left shoe. The world outside his office was a pale grey. Only a hint of rose lay on the horizon. Henry stiffly stepped into the car and did not put on his seatbelt. There were only a few other cars in the parking lot that early in the morning. Herbert didn't see them. He had driven the route to work so many times he often thought to himself that he could do it blindfolded. On the morning of December 19th he tested that hypothesis.

There were not too many cars when Herbert first got on the road. He glided beneath each light, lucky that they were primarily staying green. He drove a little recklessly down the major road, lucky that there were no police on patrol at the time. He stayed in the lane however, and headed straight for his home. His family lived in a reasonable suburban community on the outskirts of the town. It took about thirty minutes to make the trip with no traffic on the road. As he neared his home he began to encounter people leaving for work. He sped past them, seeing nothing save the images in his mind.

Herbert was flying over the ocean. He wore large black wings and used them to sail and swoop in the salty ocean air. The sun grew warm upon his back, and it felt very nice as he flew above the waves.

Herbert did not see the flashing yellow lights telling him to stop. He did not see the four little kids walking across the road to get on their schoolbus. He did not hear when his wheels crushed the bones of the children into the ground. He pulled into his driveway with a little smile on his face. He woke up in the front yard, drool crusted to his chin. His wife was screaming frantically in the street; children were crying and banging on the windows of the bus. There was blood in the road, and Herbert thought he saw his daughter's bookbag. He saw one of the Nike shoes that had been so important to his son in September, worn by a leg lying lonesome in the ditch.

Herbert Woosh remembered flying. He only remembered flying.