Object Writing, Prose & Poetry Forum

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This week's words;

Sunday - Instructions

Monday- Motorcycle

Tuesday- Wildflower

Wednesday- Asparagus

Thursday- Stopwatch

Friday - Confetti


Word of the Day
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Author Topic: Crook  (Read 143 times)
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« on: September 09, 2018, 09:39:18 PM »

I approach, crossing the street and I see some guy and I can just tell heís a criminal. Heís standing outside the bar and looking straight ahead. He looks like the stereotype Ukrainian gunman, something from Limitless and his weirdly bright red leather jacket fits the part because it seems out of place. My gut feels empty and I feel somehow jealous and inferior to this bundle of hard
muscle, hair trigger willingness to use violence in language and or body, and of course, he has the option of saying nothing. I donít. I have to be polite. Iím only just beginning to even see another possibility. The street is cobblestones, uneven like a second world country. Not highly polished like New York or Copenhagen but a little uneven. A little rough. The colors not computer matched and the shapes not designed and approved by city planners in rolled
up sleeves. I focus on the little crevices between the stones. Is it dirt or cement? What are the options. What if one colored the stuff red or bright green. Imagine a street with glowing lines between the cobblestones. Okay you light it from underneath. Now this street is funky and very expensive.  I do love thinking about the practicality and physicality of it. Creating something
people will use look at and revel in something where they turn the corner and there. Pulsing to a futuristic club beat is a glowing red street. I mean. And people will be dancing in the street and the buildings will start glowing too a kaleidoscope of color. Stuttering break beat record scratching stroboscopes white light disco tie flapping haircut so precise and stubble a white jacket and highly polished shoes. I feel the nylonlike material of the trousers and itís
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