...a deathly serenade...

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA
emotions, I thought, like an affair in a sense; Not
even ants wage such wars within their
consummate ways; they eat, crawl endlessly,
copulate in droves and instil some wondrous
feeling in people, who call themselves poets, I
reminisce of as I continued walking the dark
African night. I was more than enlivened by the
thought of millions of happenings all developing
simultaneously and the Ant-like feeling that
could manifest in this very thought, I would too
easily instruct the wind if I had to, but I have no
desire, I thought to myself, beside the
consideration that doing this would prohibit an
ability to just watch happenings unfold. By this;
broken cars become worlds; fights between
strangers; wars. I had been walking at least two
hours without concern for time, I realized, just
these feelings swelling at will. I picked up a rock,
large enough to heave and large enough to create
havoc (I reckoned), and I held it in my hand. The
sight of this rather large SUV seemed to scream
something at me, and I blasted the rock into the
window. In my periphery I saw a woman walking
on the opposite side of the road, and I didn’t try
to hide what I was doing, I just did it. —You
slept with my wife! I screamed in the broken
Arabic I understood, before walking off. —What
are you doing? Screamed the woman opposite. I
repeated nothing, nor even flinched.
Wonderings of being caught up failed to entice
me, and they never materialized into any other
happenings this night, as I continued walking
back to my place with a distinct feeling of
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