Distance Theory

by Jason Nelson

The next swift movement comes, and I’m stopping. I almost didn’t even

see it. Its ever swifting actions don’t require motion. I can’t tell you

why. I also can’t tell you five, but you don’t see the numbers

complaining. Some might wonder how movement and motion can be so

separate, yet get along on the syntax level. Well, I fear it has

something to do with punctuation and the internal combustion engine. I

say internal, because it’s just too damn cold outside to move, and

movements need commas. And I say fear, because fear is a fun word to

say.

A Character Set that Includes a Letter

I am running from the pedestrians. And I am slowing to a jog. If I was

in shape, or the shapes of alphabet blocks, I could keep running. But

I’m not. When you stack me up, five blocks deep, I don’t spell words.

Instead I’m covered with vowels, and can only spell out noises. The

reason, I suppose, is that I eat things blocks don’t eat. And blocks are

creatures. No, they can’t move, or reproduce, or fog small mirrors with

their breath. Nor can they buy cars or get five thousand dollar loans

for home improvement. But when you’re running from people on the street,

dodging umbrellas and oily puddles, alphabet blocks just seem more alive

than usual.