B is for Stealing

Somewhere in my mind Or maybe in the corner of my heart Far left Where I keep the issues of long dead stories A film plays This is what’s on the reel: A circle of friends  Gathered round the laughter Maybe it’s Christmas Or the mornings thereafter His head leans against my side His feet flail over the chair And as we sit there I play with his hands It's not a promise of something further It's not Eros or Impending Disaster  I just… play with his hands. Hands that know its way around a playstation Hands that hold a console like a politician’s grasp on the money of a nation Hands that play games… I’m playing with hands that play games... I’m longing for hands that play games.... I'm looking for hands that curl and flail And hold me all along a trail Back to … I don’t know where. But it’s perfect there. All our friends are there. Laughing, eating, not caring…. That we two ARE and no more WERE Four eyes caugh...

15. Gordon swigged the last bit of wine and laid the glass on the dining room table. He was alone. They had all gone and he was alone and to some degree, burdened by the thought of what comes next.  He held the life insurance policy in his right hand. He looked intently into it. He could hear all her desires and dreams, all her longings booming through the document. He moistened his finger on the tongue and turned the page.  There was no more wine. He kind of wished he had more wine. But it was a good thing there was no more wine. Decisions like these are best served sober. Would they understand? Would she? When all was investigated, when the paperwork settled, would she know what was done for her? Gordon looked at the terms and conditions. His trademark smile returned. “How simple the solution was.” he thought. “To fulfill a life’s dreams; to give a life purpose… all it would take… is a life.” Gordon breathed. He wished there was more wine.  IT IS DONE. T...