Whistles down the subway tracks
4:00 a.m. a lone
man asleep but
not really. Deep,
dark, strange
quark. No, not
quirk. Quark. When
a star
dies, the black
hole warps
time everywhere.
A discarded
wrapper tumbles
through town.
5:03 a.m. eyes wide open
the dreamer struggles to
recall what woke him.
The turbulence was
unsettling, the
wind buffeting as he
hovered weightless in the void,
struck senseless amazed by the
knowing. Think his desired
destination,
speak the magic words and
be whisked away at
warp speed. The lights of
the E Train disappear down
the tunnel, a dog barks in the
distance.
About the Creator
Steve Murphy
He/Him. A writer & actor living in the Arizona desert. Born in Idaho, have also lived in California, Maui, & Seattle. Married to a creative art quilter and blessed with the companionship of an Airedale Terrier.
Keep reading
More stories from Steve Murphy and writers in Poets and other communities.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.