It’s a stale room.
Bullets on a countertop.
Thick glass and blinking lights.
A green and pink bag sticks out,
Levity in a serious place.
I call him on it.
The best kind, he says,
The only kind I eat.
Can I have one?
Under the stares of the men in stars
I pop a sugar-dusted gummy.
Haven’t had candy in days and
It makes a difference.
Damn fine sour patch, I say,
But I like the bite of the regular.
Fire burning on the camera,
Far off from the room.
He laughs, this young man.
More for me, as he flips a switch.
Duty in his motion.
Treats for a good boy.
An edifice of sandstone, smooth and windswept.
One would think it was a cliff face
For all its length and height.
It is imposing.
It suggests impenetrability.
I walk to it, taking in the immense flatness of it.
My fingers press on its sun-warmed surface and am surprised to feel small, red granules roll away under my fingers and fall to my feet.
Hesitantly, I scratch the wall, watch flakes fall
and turn to dust.
I tap, grind, dig, emboldened.
The seemingly solid mass gives way begrudgingly
My hands will hurt tomorrow.
It would be easier to stop, but I’m insatiable.
Finally, a hand pops through the other side
The wall is not thick.
Simply a grand facade.
I reach through and there on the other side I can feel them brushing against my hands.