Helio, Sun

Posted: May 16, 2015 in Uncategorized

Somewhere between the box of cookies and the tray of sandwich slices comes a birthday cake. It is large, precarious even, as the small flames flick and dance above a frosting-crusted layer. Items are moved around on the table, food displaced and drinks collected to make room as it is set down in front of a chair. The particularly worrisome members of the group notice how close it is to ribbons or false leaves and fret quietly, wringing their hands in their lap as images of a house on fire and people running away screaming fill their heads. “Sing the damn song.” They say quietly to themselves. But still, the round chocolate edifice remains parked, the song lingering on the tongues of everyone in the room, as “not yet”s and “let me get the camera”s delay the inevitable and invite the unpredictable flame into the home for seconds longer. Anything bad can happen in this moment. We are trusting the monkeys with the launch codes. Sing the god damn song.


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