From: Vogon Ministry of Culture

By Tom Povey CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=78506711

To: Monica Flash Fiction

RE: Poetry posts

Honorable Ms. Fiction,

It has come to our attention that you publish poetry on your Escherous blog. How absolutely! Your poems are most spiraling and uniform. Consider this an invitation, no, a summons. Reality, under threat of death appear at the Grafitete Amphitheater of Doomicile for a command (no pun intended) performative.

A Vogon ship will be at your door on the day of cerebration promptly at midnight. Bring poetry to fill many hours. Bring copies of your latest book. Do you have a latest book? Publish one.

Apologies to Douglas Adams.

California Winter

It rained. And then froze. The rain a teaser. Maybe no drought this year. Maybe there’s snow piled into the mountains. Not that we’ll know. Since the electricity stopped working, we haven’t heard from anyone more than a buggy’s ride away.

Try explaining electricity to a five-year old. It always ends up with magic. The same way that putting seeds in the ground and getting peas seems like a miracle. We used to show our daughter how peas grow. How they need water. Used a plastic cup and a paper towel. None of those left. Good thing there’s still miracles.

Stressed in Space

I’m about to explode. Despite training in enhanced mindfulness techniques, there’s a tension in my thighs and my toes itch. I’m leaving suspended relaxation. From the ceiling viewing screen, I see we haven’t left the atmosphere.

Hibernating in self-contained pods, we hope to make it to Mars in a self-driving ship. Some billionaire’s idea. What a bad time for insomnia since success depends on no one eating for six months.

This is my sister’s idea of togetherness. She’s a long time yogi. I’m not. Though I’d like the company, I hope no one else wakes up. I need to relax.

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