tumbleweed wrangler by amanda tipto
in the tumbleweeds that grow besides the grass that grows behind the trailer in the park we listened to the breeze and i asked you what you were thinking about. you said you were thinking about dinosaurs and you were thinking about how everything we had and everything we have is bound to end. thats just how it works you said. nothing lasts forever. but i asked you what you thought of feelings and you didnt respond. you melted. you were slowly then quickly melting away in the daytime sunlight, you were gone by the next morning. i sat there next to you, holding you while the whole event transpired. I thought about the roman empire and the time when jesus was alive and how even if we think we know about those times we were never there. no one has a clue. its all in the lighning, itll all go away instantly. my writing cant save our love.
I have a real love of free-form poetic stories like this one. This one blends a dose of incoherence into a heartfelt missive and the end result leaves you feeling like you’ve only managed to learn about the tip of an emotional iceberg.
