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Cold Workings

Cold WorkingsNo two peopleare exactly alikeyou can clone them from the sameelectrified jelly and findthat their dreams are never fully formedbut magma chambers fullof hellish natures and virtues waterscooled to ninety eight degreesthe spiit of steam still pools and runsof fresh tearsforming all cold workings.No two daysare exactly the samethe gears though cut to intricate teethare more for eons thoughtthen undisturbed sleepthe sheep that leap throughfeverish meadowsgone over the fenceregrets of lost chancesbefore or sinceare more the sum of random eventsand the poor seals of cold workings.You look older I supposetired smile I appreciate the effortWe hoped for perfection.and settled for the occasional rosefree meals on someone elses tab.Do you still turnits a rhetorical questionof course you do the lines of stresshave gathered around the moments eyesthe corners of your mouthwe are liquid fire bursting to come outof the cagethen losing heart at the openings.No personis exactly like they used to bethe lines of fluxlike memories crossand even the stoudt of heart give way.I am the sum of random eventsthat top first started then left alone to ponderthe product of every moment along a plotted lineand the poor seals of cold workings.

Cold Workings

bill bell

Everett, United States

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