Thursday, February 26, 2015


The thing with circles, first and finally, is they have an innate tendency to run into obstacles. To collide with other circles. Squares even. Any number of geometries.
     And the circuits they traverse seldom run true.
     This goes for alliances. Writer's circles. Revolutions.
     Circles are tricky. Often times prickly.
     Stick one with a fork, and nine times out of ten it will collapse, in spite of all defences. Folding in on itself like a punctured lung. It's just a matter of time. Of course, sometimes circles will absorb one another too. Creating even bigger versions of themselves. Swelling like balloons until they rupture without warning.
     Other times simply dissolving.
     Circles are often pleasing to the eye. A polka dot, for example. But when they do burst, inevitably, they are sure to cause a mess. A spot, a zit, a pimple.
     Leaving behind just one more angry infected blister.
     These are the very worst kind of circles. Especially when they gather into a rash. Taking over the face. Uncontrolled. A blitzkrieg. A cancer.
May the circle be unbroken.
     Whoever so wished it was either an optimist or some kind of fool.


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