Stories

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A phalanx of soldiers rode off into the night

Is how it might have begun

I used to love adventure stories like that

Armies and abductions and long chases over rough terrain

Not that I had any inclination to actually do anything like that

No, I’d be ensconced in a comfortable armchair

Alone, after school reading action packed tales

In literary reveries of vicarious heroics

While outside the world waited with undocumented truths

And new heroes wrote their own narratives with their feet

Rallying against injustice

Or just caught up in the turbulence of life’s passage

Years went by

Library stacks and bookstore shelves fed my addiction

I got lost in so many distractions

That I dropped the thread of my own epic

Reducing heroic possibilities to clichés of normalcy

Bounded by custom

Covered by blankness

Self edited into the remaindered bargains

Sitting unsold at the back wearing layered dust

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