The police sketch artist says I haven’t changed a bit. Like Western civilization since 1500, I’m still not that entertaining, but thanks to my electronic tan, my digital clothes envy me. If you discount their continuous spam, their spark isn’t as bad as their light. Sometimes, I see people and they look crisp and clear, like light at the end of tunnel vision, although they tell me I look hazy as Beijing smog during volcano season. I don’t know whether it’s false consciousness or bad faith, but my eyes are burning and smell like smoke. My ophthalmologist says it’s left over from the Big Bang. I hope I haven’t missed my window of opportunity. Aren’t you tired of being a seamless visionary of 24/7 transformative cross-platform strategic innovation? I think we should just re-paint the roller coasters and rely on our party verbs. “But where are the ants supposed to bury their dead?” Charlene yells. When I was her age, I was asleep. “Great disguise, Charlene,” I yell back, “Six legs look really good on you.”

Brad Rose is the author of three collections of poetry and flash fiction, Pink X-Ray, de/tonations, and Momentary Turbulence. His fourth collection, WordinEdgeWise, is forthcoming in 2021. Brad’s website is: www.bradrosepoetry.com

>