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Flash Fiction


Poetry by Aaron Weiss





I dress in the mirror and imagine roaming forever.

I wear too many clothes at once; I carry a one-way wardrobe.

I wonder if the shirt Iím wearing

Will allow visits to an opera and an arcade in the same hour.

A baptism in Chinatown?

Is there too much dry mustard on the front? or does it look like paintó

Making it all seem a mixture of artwork and labor.



The suit-and-tie man lets his baby girl sit on a park bench.

Useless from walking as well,

He preaches European over her head as

She picks a mark above his nose, disobedient, without eye-focus.

Sheís smart, I think, as

The baby boy, trailing autonomously,

Solutes the sidewalk with his premature tongue.



I wonder when my sideburns became wings, and,

Will they take me

Over there where I, or a man and his babiesó

All the typical spiders behind glassó

May look up a mountain

Into the proud smiles of freshly named Gods, validated,

ďOh yes! Thereís room for thousands more!Ē





Iíve worn out years not knowing the days.

Itís Sunday though, I note, and

Iíll sleep on my floor instead,

Cursing freely at a left-footed moccasin.

Iíll be the jacket with no zipper;

Gather everything, just to watch the wind tear it apart.

Iíll be the trillionaire's wife;

The one who needs a blindfold to sleep.





Walking over the esplanade,

Silent, within my own steps,

A man dragging a womanís keen ear

Ruins my question of

What makes fresh water flow bronze?

ďThese shoes really support my over-pronated arches,Ē he says.

This should upset you too, I say to no one.

That a string-puppet would create a word, an argument, for

An inventorís flawed feet;

And that such a man, even tired, would embrace it.





About the Author


Aaron can be contacted here: aaaweiss@yahoo.com