The walk the walk she’s got the walk. Double door to heaven’s gate suicide cult museum cautionary tale about letting someone take too long to get out of the emergency siren zone. If the alarm doesn’t stop I might bleed out my eyes. Eye bleeds always get the chuckle. The light temperature does the same to my circadian rhythm. I sit down at waffle house shortly before the cook shift change. TJ taps in and turns on Monday night football. Cowboy touchdown. “You sure you don’t watch that for the pretty cheerleaders?” No answer. Roll on in here, she’s got the walk the walk. I’m asked for the time but my watch is wrong two days after daylight savings ends. What separates humans? What tears us apart? The bubbles burst and soda machines pop. Beverages stay carbonated it’s another day in corporate food paradise. *inaudible foodmouth mumbles* The siren goes off again. Screen dimming app boots up for my rhythm. Time to limp out of here and curse the contagious walk.
ryan meyer art rapid prose poem 1