Emoticons

it's kind of prose, but whatever

You know emoticons, the picture language of texting? I found one of a bridge under a starry sky. The different emoji's spoke like hieroglyphs.

I always thought a smiley face was a sort of imposition, an 'I want you to feel this, or to think that I feel this' kind of gloss-over or interruption of a genuine uncertainty or uncomfortable silence over cyberspace and telephone lines. An elmer's glue and colored paper tack on to truth, someone playing editor and revising an incubating and frail little pause...

 

The bridge and starry sky reminded me of driving to the Cape, crossing the Sagamore bridge. That two hour drive was a summer to me then.

 

We'd approach the rotary, and fast food restaurants would glint and glitter like casino palaces on the Las Vegas strip, Friendlies a Bellagio to me. Crossing the bridge, I'd feel a rush of air, the narrow onramp, sometimes with cones, and we'd take off and I'd marvel at how we drove so straight and never wavered. A darkened bay with boats, the mouth of a withheld river, maybe the etched smokestack of a nuclear power plant, the break of a black wave I couldn't see through the rail. Suicide hotlines, we'd talk about. Eminem's song 'Stan', how that 3rd verse ended with a bridge like this one...

 

The breath of the night sky on that bridge, it was a preview of the cosmic sigh we'd get from the deck we owned at the tippy top of the world. I'd become lighter. The road curved up, so we'd float a bit and become giddy and zen with wakefulness. The birds on the wire that we couldn't see. They must have slept. They could never have been painted.

 

The tires would spit-up the shells like a tank, the darkened house itself the last figure between us and the end. That roof I'd hit baseballs off of with a plastic yellow bat. The unclasping and slamming of metallic car doors, one after the other. Breathless luggage. Laptops with wound around cords. Shifting cats in cases. My steps on the shells, adrenaline rattling me as if Cujo was standing on the cottage path just beyond. The salt smell would continue to sink in for quite some time. You have to wake up with the salt in your nostrils a few times before you can believe it's really there. Star gazing would come another night. Maybe a moment tonight. The same stars on the bridge, but brighter. Nearer. 

Reviews

[closed]

surrealism at its best
your words speak

and not merely in Dreams



-Dream

[DIVYA]

Vivid descriptions hold the reader.

Very interesting imagery...."Breathless luggage. Laptops with wound around cords. Shifting cats in cases. My steps on the shells, adrenaline rattling me as if Cujo was standing on the cottage path just beyond."

Though it took a bit more of concentration to tune in to the lines but when I did, I liked the read a lot.

[Anand Sehgal]

Well-Knit thought process. I liked it very much. It was fluent and lucid.
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The breath of the night sky on that bridge, it was a preview of the cosmic sigh we'd get from the deck we owned at the tippy top of the world.

great artistry in this line :)
Pen on :)
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[Chloe]

A very interesting piece. Perfect imagery and very full of feeling. Love it

[Debbie_Philly]

Oh Thaddius.... I very much enjoyed this piece... well written and your thoughts are wonderfully conveyed here !! Looking forward to reading more !! :)

[Talia The Hedgehog]

incredible! i love it! i hope that you will one day be an author!

[Thaddius]

thanks! me too!

[Talia The Hedgehog]

yes. i hope you like most of mine!

[Sarah H. (Shadow Mage)]

Wow! I really love this. I get the feeling the Emoji that was mentioned in the beginning of this piece brought all the memories flooding back to you. This is a very deep poem/prose.
Keep up the great work!

[Emily Ring]

This is a great piece. It is so completely in the moment and so engaging. I read the rest of you work as well and Dear E is another great piece.

[Scott Metro]

Well written...descriptive.
Good job.

Scott

[Sanjana Raju]

I really like your style of writing, and the characters are so full of life.