Silicates

To his astonishment, the large tower of flames coming from the semi-truck glowed not the usual methane blue, but rather an iridescent purple with embers of orange that crackled like flashes of lighting into the massive flume of smoke. He stood outside on the other side of the street in a pair of boxers that had glow-in-the dark paint which read “fuck me” across the crotch.

He bit onto a small green pillow he had taken with him from the hotel room. The ground was icy and oily from the exhaust of cars coming off of the road that night and seeking refuge by the diner. It took only moments for the visitors of the hotel to start to meekly step out from their rooms and watched as the truck bed snapped in two, the container that rested on top of it puffing another plumage of flame upwards into the crisp cold night.

White knuckled fingers clenched the pillow tightly. Sirens rang from down the street. Bright day glow green trucks skidded on the ice. HAZ-MAT. Someone was weeping. He turned his head to notice that half the windows were shattered or cracked on the parked cars from the explosion. Drowsy men put on gas masks and green baggy some-size-fits all suits and told everyone to step back. The air smelled like bacon grease. He reached into his boxers as scratched the hair around his thigh and yawned.


Phytoplankton

Char marks, pile of burned rubber tries, and a part of the metal frame was still visible from the window of the diner when he sat there later that day. He stared at them hypnotically as the tab of his soda can rattled within the empty aluminum cylinder. He felt her boot pressed softly against his tennis shoe. He turned his head to look at her. She smiled at him.

Scrawny with frayed mousey brown hair dyed blonde. Green eyes. She had small pert breasts but he loved her emerald eyes. It reminded him of green plankton laden oceans, liquid blankets of crystal coated sun worshipers that sparkled while they floated in between the rest of the world. As he gazed briefly into those eyes Muttered something to him. Smiled back.

He ran his fingers through his short brown hair which caused his cowlicks to stick up in the back. He tugged on his collar and rubbed his fingers against the cotton candy pink fabric. He liked the soft feel of the fabric, it made him feel as if he was shirtless. He looked down at his waffles drenched in strawberry syrup. His hand went to back of his neck and he began to shake his leg. Wished he was naked.

She kept looking at him with those deep green eyes and his stomach began to churn. He put the empty can down. Rubbing his fingers together he could still feel the slickness of gasoline between them. He can them though his messy hair. Looked up and saw the deepness of the ocean. He bit his lip. Her eyes pleaded with him as she asked him what was wrong. Back to the char marks outside he looked. Shook his head. Boots shuffled apprehensively under the table. His leg still shook. The table shook. Her orange juice rippled.

She asked him again what was wrong. He stared back down at his waffles, watching the low viscosity of the syrup cause the liquid to ooze down the sides of the cooked batter, watching how it rested in the small little square-shaped pockets, sinking deeper still as it seeped into the spongy cake. His fingers dug into his hair.

Tried not to think of her eyes. He opened his mouth to speak. Closed his own eyes. Spoke the first words of a sentence but found himself opening his eyes and looking at her. His leg stopped shaking. The table stopped shaking. The ripples in her drink subsided. He was speechless as He’d drink too much in the deepness of that green ocean. Would disturb currents kill sunshine break thousands of little plant-like crystals in the cup of his palm.

He reached for his wallet and pulled out a twenty which he put on the table. Shimmied across the vinyl cushion and stood. Couldn’t bring himself to look at him again as he muttered something. There was a clatter of thick brown plastic trays being stacked one onto of the other as he opened the cracked glass door. White carpenter’s tape covered the long leg of the rift in the glass. Two bells tied with balloon string to the door handle jingled as it slowly closed.


Driver

The driver had already warmed the engine when he reached the passenger seat. He sat down. The man behind the steering wheel bit down on a golden fried hash brown half covered in a paper wrapper. He offered the passenger a bite but he refused. He shrugged and finished eating. Pulled out a small peach hanker chef and rubbed the grease off of his fingers. Put it back into his coat pocket.

He sunk his head into his hands and hunched over in the passenger seat. The driver placed on a pair of dark sunglasses. Short orange-brown hair. Soft light to nearly pastel casual suit. Sunglasses. He put the car into gear and pulled out of the icy parking lot. Uncompassionate Metrosexual. From under the sunglasses his eyes darted to his rearview mirror.

Flat fields covered with snow seemed to erase any sense of distance or the concept of continuity in the universe. The long endless road that reached off past the horizon. The driver scratched the slight stubble on his chin while they began to race down the highway.

He raised his head from his hands and looked over the dash board and the front of the car down the road beyond the last overpass of the city and to that spot where it faded into the endless white. Wind whistled as it seeped between the edges of the car door windows. Rubbed his shoulders and his chest. Tugged on his frosty pink shirt. Turned to look at the driver. The man in the sunglasses stared blankly down the long paved diagonal.

Rubbed his stomach as a pain started to churn inside of him. Scratched at his
wrist. Chemical burn. Only now did it begin to appear. He darted to eyes to see if the driver noticed. If he did the convey was lost behind the sunglasses. Lips remained thin and expressionless.

He reached under his pink shirt and rubbed at the taught skin. Buried his body against the leather passenger seat. Vomit boiled in his throat. He clenched at his stomach. One hand reached in between his messy brown hair and tugged n his locks. For a moment he thought about the swells of an endless emerald ocean. Closed his eyes. Closed his eyes and thought of the swells. Of endless liquid fields of crystalline microcosms to the greater sea itself.

Eventually another road intersected the horizontal and made a point. The driver pulled off the road and into the parking lot of a bus station. Muttered something about having to make a call. Tossed him the keys. Told him there was a lockbox across the street. Told him to get it. Just a few minutes.

Nodded. Both left the car. He walked across the street. It was freezing and the air floated through his silk shirt. He fumbled with the keys between his fingers until he found that he was sure was for the lockbox. 305. He yanked it off the key ring. Hovering his hand over the small aluminum lids he went down the row until he came across the correct number. Crouched and stuck in the key. He turned it open, only to find a manila folder. Opened the folder. A small lightweight pistol slid out of the envelope and into his palm.

For a moment he stared at the gun in his hand until he remembered he was out in the open and quickly tucked it under his belt and under the large cotton candy silk shirt. He opened the envelope wider and looked inside. At the very bottom was a single dollar bill. He pulled it out and looked at it. One said had a gram around the sides and the words ‘one thousand dollars’. Folded it in half and stuck it in his pocket.

Walked back to the car. He sat in the passenger seat and waited. A train came into the station. He watched as people in thick overcoats flooded out of it. They all walked down the three steps of the platform and dispersed into the parking lot. Cars began to move out of the parking lot. All aboard. As the traffic cleared he saw a man in a pastel casual suit step onto the train.

He stepped out of the car. Nearly slipped on the icy pavement. Ran to the train car, only to spy the man sit down next to a smiling brunette in the window. The train call rolled onward away from him. He paused two meters away from the platform. He could see the woman laughing and leaning in to him.

The tracks buckled on the weight of the train and made the sound of pocket change. He stood there for a moment. The train left the station, and the platform was empty. The air breathed through his shirt. He slowly walked back tot he car. He sat down in the passenger seat. Pulled the gun out of his pants and rested it on his lap. Couldn’t breathe. Unbuttoned part of his shirt. He wanted to be naked.

Closed his eyes. Of endless liquid fields of crystalline microcosms to the greater sea itself. Of sunlight and the ocean. Currents sweeping down into the depths.


Gyre

Little light blue/periwinkle slips of paper next to pens chained to the table. His leg was shaking. Foot jittery. He filled out the deposit form. Wrote ‘one thousand dollars’. Folded it into his pocket. There was an old woman before him holding the hand of a grandchild. The child looked at him in contempt as he impatiently waited. His sour expression and deep brown eyes made the man press his elbows into his hips and stretched his fingers wide.

He stepped forward on the brown and mustard checkered tiles. Wrapped around the queue line. Stepped up to the teller. Young woman with curly soft brown hair. Thick rimmed glasses. He handed her the bank slip and the and the thousand dollar bill. He smiled. She looked down nervously. Smiled back. His eyes darted to look at the periwinkle shirted security guards standing at every corner. Typed in some numbers into a keyboard. Looked at a hidden monitor. Smiled. Called over the manager. Older woman smiled. He smiled. She picked up the pill and examined it. Pointed to the teller something on the front side and handed it back. She nodded. Turned to the man and smiled. He smiled back.

Handed him a receipt. He mumbled a thank you. She mumbled a welcome. He quickly darted to the side and stuffed the receipt into his pocket. Saw out of the corner of his eye one of the guards staring at him. Open the thick glass door at the front. Saw the man move away from the wall out of the corner of his eye.

He tugged on his shirt collar to let the cold hair from the parking lot flow down his shirt and tickle at his scrawny chest. He wanted to be naked. Walked over to the car and sat back in the driver’s seat. Warmed up the engine. His leg shook. Watched as the guard came out and scanned the parking lot. He pressed his body deep into the bucket seat of the car. Ocean Phytoplankton.

The guard walked over to his car. The guard tapped on his window. The mans eyes darted to the passenger seat. He winced. The gun was laying in the middle of the seat as if it was a discarded errand.

He reached for it. He guard pulled out his gun. Fired three shots. His body jolted at he grasped the gun tightly and turned, a bullets entering his shoulder and ribs. The car lunched forward as his foot fell off of the break. Squeezed on the trigger. Split the guards lip open and teeth splattered into the car as the man fell back.

Droved onto the sidewalk and turned around. It was getting hard to breathe. Pulled onto the street and herd sirens. Flashing red and blue lights. Pressed the gas pedal as hard as he could. Sank deep into the bucket seat. Closed his eyes. Phytoplankton.


Sirens

The car wobbled down the freeway as the horizontal became blurred with the endless white. He bit his lip. The sounds of roaring sirens that followed him like harpies in the back of his head echoed and faded away as his pink shit turned red. For long moments he merely stared at the red lights that followed him along as if they wee holiday lights being dragged by a kitten.

The sun seemed to leave the car and become too dark to see. He closed his eyes and healed the steering wheel as steady as he could. Wobbled in the diagonal. Green ocean swells. Chest felt hot and burning. Into the depts. Beyond the light of the sun.

The man’s grip of the steering wheel weakened as his hand couldn’t grasp so much anymore. His feet felt no longer heavy and began to lighten up on the steering wheel. Two lights moved to either side of him. Couldn’t see in the darkness but faint felt the pulse of red and blue. Flicked now. Red and blue. Red and blue.

Hand slipped down from the steering wheel. Felt the dizziness of a sharp turn. Felt the car almost crawl off the edge f the horizontal into the white null void. Dipped off the road into the snow bank. Pressed the door open and fell out. It was cold.

The heat from his body and the blood soaked into his red shirt gave him the final sensation of wetness. He grasped at the collar. Wanted to be naked. Wanted to sink into the bottom of the ocean. His fingers spread across his chest and relaxed. The white show stained pink.