Member-only story
Adventure Awaits in the Space Between Moments
Prose Poetry
Oh, we’re going places, aren’t we? That’s what we tell ourselves when the desk jobs become too much, the chains in place, while we count down days on a cluttered calendar.
At night, we dream of azure skies above tranquil sands in our own little private oasis where real life can’t touch us.
In the morning, we pour our cups of coffee and sigh through the steam. We think our little 9-to-5’s will make a difference, but really we’re just saving up for a retirement we may never live to enjoy.
And then it’s back to that same lumpy couch for a night of our eyes glazing over while the latest streaming pick drones on in the background.
Oh, we’re going places, aren’t we? That’s what we try to promise ourselves as we sink into another restless sleep, anxious for that 7 AM alarm to blare us from the embrace of sweeter dreams.
At our desks, we try to plot out our itineraries — as if the plans will make any difference when we just might be too tired to enjoy the bounties of vacation time.
In this month’s meetings, we pretend to listen as our bosses who don’t care about us drill us with numbers and quotas that matter so little in the spans of our entire lives.
