Out in the wilds of Kentucky, there were monsters that roared with the turn of a wrist. Sputtering to life, they tore down concrete, guzzled up gallons of natural resources, and thirsted harder. They were calculated in their costs, and not worth it to most, but still people fed them.
Out in the sharps of Kentucky, no one knew my name. I walked amongst many, one arm spring-loaded with a case of self-defense, the other arm carrying heavy things I don’t need. I put both arms to rest, lay flat on my back until it was dark enough to count the stars. It didn’t get dark enough, or I never had sight enough, to lose count.
Back to the flats of Ohio, the bridge was shut down going south over the river. Bits of monsters were shattered, with their lifelines still trapped inside. There were so many lights flashing, I lost count. I slow-gamed it home, infuriating and frustrating the hurriers, who didn’t seem to care about anything but getting somewhere. Nevermind the thrill of just being there.
Safe in the flats of Ohio, monsters were parked badly, taking up more space than they needed. I settled mine to rest and stepped out into the cold. It met me thinking, met me interspersed between some hard place and a softer one than I’ve known. Safe in the flats of Ohio, I unlocked a door, unlocked another one, and wondered about the next place I might call home.