What Can Happen In a Second


Well, everything born happened in a second.
Our under-developed widow’s peak touches air before we even screw up our face to scream and that…that’s the time stamped on our birth certificate. Stamped on our own inestimable history.
Clichés form. A mediocre mind tilts; glimpses a pattern and gluey words yellow that tongue so that everyone else has to see it too. Whether that’s in print and column. You can’t unsee it. Can’t unthink it.
Ok then how about Sanitization. …What a terrible fucking word that is for lives that get deleted. I’m talking about names erased from a government document or left out at an empty awards speech. A swoosh of black ink versus stage-fright. The results horribly the same. Although no-one gets to see the recriminations of that particular instant I suppose.
Fingers grasp or don’t grasp. A ring on one, an oximeter on the other.
Perhaps an insult trips out and people laugh or they gasp depending who it is that it’s thrown at. Not what’s said; that’s not the second that matters of course. But the appraisal that follows-the audience glance towards the ‘sort of person’ in the crosshairs and the bean-counting begins on how they might react.
A punch or a shrug.
As if the damage wrought can even be seen by those ridiculous eyes.
Hmm, what else?
Small things I suppose.
A smile for a stranger; though you hope they don’t stop.
The death of a colour, like Polaroid grey.
Maybe there’s a coke can on the street… and you decide to punt it or… pick the thing up to drop in the recycling.
How convenient it is to sometimes forget that we shape atoms and their future. We’re short sighted gods that act like teenagers.
Who choose to tie or not tie their shoe-laces according to mood.
We are mercurial. Though the seconds we live in are not.
And the worst part?
The worst part is that we think these things are grand in the planning. That we shaped them; fermented the idea, gases and all. To develop them into the perfect flavour on the tongue.
But in reality these seconds happen upon us, like thugs in an alley.
Just as impulsive as we try not to be.
And you can strive to corral them all you like, but I’ll tell you this for free. It’ll take a little more than a whistle and a border collie to keep a single one of these moments in check.
Though I don’t doubt you’ll give it your best shot.

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