I was setting cars on fire or I wasn’t.
I mean, I am setting cars on fire or I’m not.
I have to forget about the past tense.
The past tense is for ghosts and apologists.
Ghosts feed off grievances and errors.
And here, I’ve never watched a cooking show.
Add that to the bucket list.
Sincere apologists make the best lists.
The best ones name names.
I’m not naming names.
I’m not a good apologist.
I prefer index finger painting, roller coaster screaming, or wild flower plucking.
I wouldn’t put most of what I want on a list.
There’s always some ghost reading over your shoulder.
Even if your shoulders are thick.
I would put the bucket in the car which may or may not be on fire.
The bucket won’t drive itself.
Some cars will.
We are in the future now.
Ask Jules Verne.
The list is in red ink.
Dorothy’s shoes were red and took her to all sorts of places.
Her shoes sparkled, sparkled, but were colored differently than the ink red list.
Think of flames, licking bright red, etc.
Think of all those places and names.
©2020 Mike James All rights reserved.
Mike James makes his home outside Nashville, Tennessee and has published widely. His many poetry collections include: Journeyman’s Suitcase (Luchador), Parades (Alien Buddha), Jumping Drawbridges in Technicolor (Blue Horse), First-Hand Accounts from Made-Up Places (Stubborn Mule), Crows in the Jukebox (Bottom Dog), My Favorite Houseguest (FutureCycle), and Peddler’s Blues (Main Street Rag.) He served as an associate editor of The Kentucky Review and currently serves as an associate editor of Unbroken.