David DeSilva
Close My Eyes Here I lay, the ruins of what’s left of a day. Less than ordinary, not very exciting at all. Yet so very exasperating. I close my eyes, resting them after a day of training them on the world, battered, abused, and beaten by the Madison Avenue scene, the sparkle and strange chatter of a stranger. My feet lay limp and lifeless after hours of supporting my cigarette habit and blazing old trails. Tired from taking me from one adventure to another they can’t see. Wondering how they can walk a mile in another man’s shoes when they can barely stand to go a few more feet in what they’re in now. Now I lay me down to sleep. Good dreams tonight I hope I reap. Dreams not of what might be but what might have been. How the day might have gone had I only stayed in one place. Had I let the world come and find me today, would old friends have stopped by? Would I have been killed? Would I have been cast in a movie where I run naked through a desert speaking nonsensical French? Or at the very least, not be so tired as I am now?
Situations 25
