Hilltop Beacons

Georges Cunningham

I wrote on the wall.

The wall yelled at me to stop.

I set it on fire.

It yelled at me to stop.

So I walked into the bathtub.

Smashed more than three lightbulbs

and examined the filaments.

It felt like a piece of slick glass covered linoleum

dripping with sausage.

It said to me, in the most angelic voice, »I wish I

was a yam, so the pilgrims would respect me.»

I told it, I knew the feeling.

»Can I switch to prose?», it asked again.

No, I said assuredly.

Then it melted apart.

It slipped closer and closer to the drain.

Ever closer.

And closer still.

Inching towards the chorme

at the foot of my bathtub.

It was almost there.

And now almoster there.

Still creeping, even resilient to reach the drain.

Wow, was it close.

It is much closer than I am.

In fact, it would seem that you could lay fifteen

Asian floor rugs between

me and my filament to an

earthworm.

Closer and closer it went.

Slipping away from my reality with

every passing second and slide.

Sliding closer to its goal. Its delicious

end.

In the chrome.

Of my bathtub.

Such a lucky bathtub.

And would you believe closer still.

So close it can smell the chrome.

Slower it seemed to move

as it reached the drain

almost as if nervous.

Crawling now, the filament was somehow closer.

And now closer.

And now closer.

And still closer.

But now, even closer.

And now closer.

And now closer.

And now closer.

And even closer!

Unbelievable

it still approached closer.

And yet now even closer.

Could I have such limits.

And now closer.

And now closer.

And now closer.

And now closer.

A decimeter more.

A centimeter more.

A millimeter more.

A micrometer more.

A nanometer more.

A picometer more.

A femometer more.

A attometer more.

Oh!, I burst out, with my jaw on the floor.

A zeptometer more.

A yoctometer more.

And then, to my amazement,

it reached the lip of the chrome drain.

»Joyous day!» It proclaimed

Just then, the ceiling fell down, crushing the filament

the bathtub

and me.

For the fire was never put out.

I am now bleeding.

And it grows black around me.

Such a brave filament.