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The Sky Again


by Darryl Price


I have been here before. Several times. 
I'm pretty sure. The tall waving grasses 
and their lovely flower companions; the 
relentless windy hills, all swaying 
up and down and over themselves the same 
roller way. That thrilling feeling on your 

skin, of right before a major storm. But 
frozen in its own small time and place. Not 
repeating itself, but as if always 
trying to bring something or someone from 
somewhere else into the picture with me. 
Without much success. As far as I can 

tell. So why am I talking to you? Who 
are you? When I found myself here before,  
the feeling of being was exactly  
the same, odd and yet comforting. Intense,  
not really threatening. What has changed the 
most, I guess, about this world is me. I 

might be inclined to suppose, I'm someone 
who pops across two different worlds, who 
doesn't fit so neatly or belong completely 
to either one. I'm not even 
sure if I was invited, but must have 
been, or by whom. For what purpose. Yet here 

I stand alone. Once more. Trying with all 
my heart beats to keep my shit together. 
Here comes the sky again, turning itself 
inside out and shaking off all the stars 
that now or ever were into a glass 
bowl for all. That's what I'm watching happen.
 
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