Change the Locks

Just a friendly reminder: each and every day is uniquely identical. Hope you’re enjoying the infrared hospitality. Yesterday, for example, I could barely make out the fine print on my hearing test. Thank goodness it was color-coded. Oh, those damn Texans. You know how finicky they can be. In a hurricane, they can’t tell whether they’re wearing trousers or pants, but they’re getting so much better at the death penalty, especially now that jail time has gotten so expensive. Of course, after Lumbarski’s funeral, I just had to go ahead and say to Jaylynn, Who the hell wears heels like that around the house, anymore? I guess it’s a love-hate thing. The latest research reveals that each year of death is now a century long. Still, time passes faster than you think. You can’t fake a thing like that. Sadly, I’ve learned that others have their own thoughts and perspectives, too. Should I change the locks on all my doors?


Could Always be Worse

I’m colorful, except for my black and white thinking. I have no idea why night is so dark. You’d think it would be more careful. Yesterday evening, I dreamt of you in broad daylight. Thank goodness for the interchangeable parts, although I wouldn’t dream of changing a thing. So far, no word from the robots or any of the other villagers, those charlatans. Fortunately, there’s no cause for optimism. They think they’re so smart. Sure, they can do the Watusi and they’re great kissers, but talk, talk, talk. It never ends. And they skipped out on last month’s rent. As soon as I become un-incarcerated, I’m going to make my bed by sleeping in it. At Uncle Roscoe’s wake, next weekend, I’ll be the half-life of the party. I’ll dazzle them with my striped socks and checked suspenders, my upbeat personality and low-life weltanschauung. Everybody’ll think, Is that guy a member of the Secret Society of Lighting Strike Survivors or has he just returned from a staycation on the shady side of the Sun? Of course, everybody knows that, like a karaoke haircut or a hush-hush nuclear accident, no matter how bad things seem now, they could always be worse.

BRAD ROSE is the author of three collections of poetry and flash fiction, Pink X-Ray, de/tonations, and Momentary Turbulence. Two new books of prose poems, WordinEdgeWise and No. Wait. I Can Explain., are forthcoming in 2022. Rose has been six times nominated for a Pushcart Prize, and three times nominated for the Best of the Net Anthology. His poetry and fiction have appeared in, The Los Angeles Times, The American Journal of Poetry, Miracle Monocle, New York Quarterly, Puerto del Sol, Clockhouse, Cloudbank, Baltimore Review, Best Microfiction 2019, Lunch Ticket, Cultural Daily, and other publications. Brad is also the author of seven poetry chapbooks, including the recently released Collateral and Funny You Should Ask. His website is: