In another life I am
a collection of sea shells
Scattered along
an alien shore
Distant light years
Away
I go along my merry way
my day – to – day routine,
Staring at a gold sky
Washed by dry waves
wondering how
I ended up this way.
It is a utopian life
I suppose
where all my needs are met
I don’t have to worry
about things like work
Or school
on my planet of pink penguins
and gold skies.
In another life I am
a graveyard.
Bursting with bones,
some of them very old.
And moss grown
headstones
With faded names
Of long forgotten
loved ones.
I’ve been this place
for a couple of months now
never told anybody
where it is.
I feel safe here
The only other people
here are bats,
two of them.
I watch them at dusk
Their flittering
skin thin wings
Cutting arcs above me.
In another life I am
a boutique,
and my customers
Are professional women
who love my clothes but
can not afford to buy them,
So they try them on
And tell me
their stories,
all about the
pressure
they are under to be
thin and pretty,
So I give clothes away
because they need
something
without
any strings.
But it seems to me
that there is nothing
I can give these women
that they do not
already have
in their lives,
but they don’t want to hear that
So they return
Day after day
I give
And listen.
Until there is nothing left
And they move on.
– Job