Finale

[heslopian]

He left that evening, around ten o'clock.
Closed the door. Flicked the switch.
Entered darkness like a bus,
pulling into the station
on its last bit of fuel. Random images

danced by. Salt pebbles
shining in the bright cheese
on his last meal. A large pizza.
Canned laughter shutting off suddenly
as spotlights hit the house band.

A filth encrusted penny
found between sofa cushions.
The cause of it all was still there,
but why dwell on it? In these last
seconds of light why not reflect

on the puddles of life. We all know
the ocean is there, and what it can do.
He'd never know how his wife would react,
if his children would grow up hating him.
He could make an educated guess

based on what he knew of them,
but the physical facts were out of his reach.
Money. Money was the ocean, of course,
as it so often is. But the penny, the cheese,
the empty laughter, are what he left with.