Sparkles and monochrome rainbows illuminate another gaudy Saturday morning, the death car veering first away from, then toward misfortune.
Voices echo down the long hall, children playing to the backdrop of serious adult conversation, which is more important.
At the bottom of the stairs that lead to the front door, sits a bewildered prophet savoring an infective sandwich, loaded with bacterial wisdom.
Seeing only his own hunger, hearing only meaningless words and empty promises, no wrongs or rights just middling mediocrity.
Pondering deeply, he gratefully chews then swallows each mouthful, thankful for the contagious flavors of dust and divinity and wonders which is more important, children’s laughter or adult conversation?
Desert Dweller 