My own game of marbles

We collide into each other, we hit hard. While the rain outside dances in the puddles, somewhere else its heaving sobs. We play marbles with ourselves. My heart’s a small glass orb all cloudy red inside, a strip of yellow. What is yours?

I keep getting stronger in my dreams and taking tip toes in life. Sneaking upon something that already knows I’m coming. Should I just kick down the door instead?

Tula is aggravated by the rain. She whines and stares outside singing the ‘rain rain go away’ song in tongues. She’s stalking birds she won’t see today. They’re nestled in to the trees. She claws at my clothes as a ‘take that’ for the rain like it’s my fault she’s bored. A car alarm goes off and so has the novelty of safety it brings. No one listens to that crap anymore.

We all gather around – I still need to get a rug for my writing room – but we all gather around in a circle on the wood floor anyway. We place a prize in the middle, something unnamed, a marble with the most beautiful ribbons of color inside. I want it I want it I want it. I don’t know what it means; what it is, but something like hunger says this marble will tell me what to do; how to live; how to find peace and comfort and answers; how to live life with music playing in my ears, with my pink boots on all the time.

We take our marble hearts. Place them between the flat nail on our thumb and our pillow skin fingers and flick with all our might.

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