floating crane


“Bromance–It’s all about the friendship!”

–Janalyn Robnett


“I would like to try an experiment.”

You stared at this new doctor sitting across the table from you, vaguely curious. “Go ahead,” you replied with a shrug.

“Would you like to see my mask?”

You gave another shrug. “Whatever floats your boat.”

Dr. Crane nodded and pulled out a small aerosol container, spraying you with it. You moved your head back, raising an eyebrow as you waved it away from your eyes. When your vision cleared, he was wearing an ugly-looking mask. Instead of feeling fear, like a normal person might, you just stared at him.

“I assume something was supposed to happen then?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Dr. Crane slowly pulled off his mask and scrutinized you, head cocked to the side. “Curious,” he mused, more to himself than to you. “No reaction whatsoever.”

“Are you going to tell me what that stuff was?”

“A fear toxin of my own making,” he replied as he smoothed his hair and tucked the mask away again. “A normal person would be screaming right now.”

You rapped your knuckles against your skull, “Sorry, doc, but whatever my file says is true. I don’t feel fear. Some sort of rare genetic condition.”

He nodded, “I was aware of your file, though I wished to see for myself. I must say that your condition is… intriguing. I would like to study it more, if given the chance.”

“Go right on ahead.”

Gif Credit: Jonathan

I heard you say that you know when the time is right. That stars align and the planets unite to configure a large envelope sealing us in. That together we could lie on the fiery lawn and watch our legs blaze in the agony that is prickly grass. Prickly glass you said was a metaphor. You said because we all lie on prickly grass love never works and let’s just return to humming our sad malicious tunes. Together we could fold our fingers into origami cranes and float against the marshed waters of your so called time. Everything was relative and impractical and perpendicular to the world you said was mine. Keep writing you said. Write down your dark feelings because dark is a relative idea and black is really blue and purple and the color of your face when I hit you at night. And remember you said that life is a beautiful thing and the craters lining the moon also caress your face and the answers to the questions you ask. Let us drink cold lemonade and poorly made pretzels while synchronizing how to pull off our shoes and shirts at the same time. Let everything be a puzzle you told me. A puzzle you make and solve based on your own accord. Everything is relative you said. Let us walk by the cemetery because remembering is important and I am there and she is there and you will be there. And together we can sing our joyous songs against a tv backdrop and be together forever. But forever is relative you said so we only stay for forever until forever is over and forever can be over whenever you say and things are always over and ending. Let us spray garden hoses on each other and maybe laugh a little louder to disrupt the neighbors because they too are relative and leaving soon. And our relationship was relatively over but that meant it was relatively still going on and so sitting at picnic benches became our favorite past time. Deep fried pickles and cheese burgers were tastier than strawberry shortcake so I stayed away from the relative idea of your face. But I always ended up right next to your face. Let us swing high above sand pits and baseball fields to a sky where you say we all intertwine. Where if I look in the sky I can see the stars align but more importantly you said I could see you. So I look in the sky every night and every night you’re there and things seem relatively good. But the problem with relatively good is that things are also relatively bad and relative will always be all that you are. And so I lie on the prickly grass and wait for you to walk past and I relatively don’t care if you do or you don’t. But again it’s all relative and I was never very good at that.
—  Bay-of-roses.tumblr.com