Missiles Like Low Ceilings

Missiles like low ceilings, helmet-to-helmet contact,

or a ski accident. You don’t remember snow but you do

remember your basement. You’ve never had a basement.

You do now. You used to have children. You never had

children. You don’t have children now. You’re not sure

if that should make you sad or whether you’re sick

of cleaning up vomit, baby shit, bits of violently vibrant

coloring book confetti. But that party already ended.

Something rattles. It’s not your brain. Brains don’t rattle.

It could just be static. The kind that hides discontent. Or,

gunfire. Thank God someone is doing something about

the low ceilings. They should have been built higher,

much higher, so high you could leap from the top stair

and find nothing but soft, clean carpet down there. Where

did you put that new vacuum cleaner? Is it in the basement?

You’ve never had a basement. Your head was once much harder.