When God don’t want you and the devil’s scared of you
That just means you’re going to live forever.
But still, he wanted to look at the last of his cash.
To hold it in his hand and smell it.
Hold it up to the sunlight and look at it front and back.
Discern the symbols. Make change. Play liars poker.
He placed his card in the ATM.
He never got it back.
He looked through his wallet to no avail.
Then a funny thing happened.
The ATM spit out a card.
He took the card. It read-
Thank you for your excessive patronage.
You have earned one free…at a … of your choice…must be redeemed by…
He was all set.
Where would he go?
What would he get?
He spoke to the imaginary film crew that followed him about.
The one that follows everyone about.
Except they were different.
They followed HIM and not YOU.
He penetrated the fourth wall like a forgone conclusion.
But they had no answers what with their furry boom mics and even-keeled steady-cams.
They were like mannequins stolid in their subjectivity checking the lighting and sound levels
Until they began waving him back into the shot emphatically
Imploring him to stay in the third dimension
As if their stolid mannequin lives depended on it.
What to get?
What to get.
Tacos? Second-hand clothing? A new tattoo? A firearm, perhaps?
His choice was his.
He would need time.
Lots of it.
Where was the Time store?
The Wish Store?
Should he hail a cab?
Take the bus?
No, that was what they wanted. Punch your ticket in the getting there.
Thoughts stacked up like big old jet airliners during the Reagan administration.
What could he get that would get him MORE?
He went to the Ellipsis store and bought a whole batch, a big old sack of them,
Not the Starter Size, the Average Joe size and not the Grande, but the INFINITY SIZE package
“For When You Don’t Want to Run Out of Ellipses…Ever”
And whenever he got in a fix he would reach into that bag of small dots
And scatter them like bread crumbs…sew them like seeds…paint them like chemtrails…
Did it work?
That was the last anyone ever saw of him,
Reaching into that bag always up to his wrist
And tossing them indiscriminately
Waiting on a judgement day
That would never arrive