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A Dense Fog Of Certainty, Maybe

The standard issue emotion

cascaded out of his mind

and into his mouth

to consume the moment

and clear away all doubt.

He was absolutely certain he was right

as certain as a turning screw

as certain as a dogs nose

as certain as a period

as certain as a last breath.

He would scream it from a mountaintop

but that was too hard to get to

he would stand on a soapbox and speech it

but they don’t make those anymore

he would broadcast it on all channels

but the radio stations door was locked

he would whisper it in your ear

but that would be too close.

All bottled up now

and creeping doubt calling

he wondered if maybe just possibly he was wrong

and quiet panic set in what now wait a minute.

He found himself on the other side of the mirror

and yes he was sure yes sure

that he had been wrong.

He stared down at his shoes

and wondered who had been walking in them

as a very old man walked up to him

with a cold yet sad for him regard

and said you have had those long enough

give them back to me

yours are too tight

and they hurt me.



Published inMain


  1. Okay? Ahem, forgive the laughter which ensued, but there was perhaps some dry humour none too subtly couched in this discussion which tripped down the page finishing with an insistence its shoes were the wrong size. As for the poor beleaguered fellow who knew he was right until doubt laughed in his face, will somebody send him outside and tell him to listen closely? He’ll find refreshment the damned mirror never could proffer.

      • Ah, prolly gave ‘im bunions and worse, puir feller. Mi commentado still stand, though.
        Thank you very much for explaining.

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