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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4456 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention Chromosome Theory DarkScribe (Ian Marlowe) My mother says I'll never understand maternal instinct, the passion a mother feels for a child passed through flesh. I blame it on biology and diversions of cells frightened by large objects in the rearview that they miss all the signs, those which foretell of a bridge washed out ahead. Science says my ignorance stems from a sex chromosome losing a foot while racing from the womb and how it loses the rest of the leg twenty miles past the Urethra Turnpike, at the rest area where too much of a good thing means stumbling out of our clothes with our boots still on. Such clumsiness reminds me of falling from a tree at the age of three, splitting my skull on a cowpat, how the best part of swimming through air is freedom and knowledge that there's nothing more to do but drown. At thirteen, gravity plays roulette with hormones daring us to ease into each other's lane, by nineteen we're speeding through traffic, at thirty our foot must be surgically removed from the pedal. Perhaps by the time I'm my mother's age, I'll fail to notice the last exit home my thoughts lapdancing around this notion that a little strand of fate with a limp makes all the difference in how we view this world, this irreversible life. |
