The night closes in around me now as I sit alone with only my thoughts. It’s about 3:30am on a Friday and my head still spins like a top. I need to go to bed, yet sleep eludes me, the desire of it seems far from me. I need to quiet my mind and so let me attempt to empty it.

I sit and play mental Tetris with myself, laying piece after piece together trying to hit the high score. I toy with this pretty puzzle in my mind; I take measure of its shapes and shards, its varied and sundry enigmas and complications. I turn the Rubik’s cube over and over hoping to find the right set of actions that leads to success. What is the word, what is the magic word that unlocks this door that brings down this wall, which puts Dr. Wily begging at my feet? If only life were more like a video game from the 80’s. I could use a little up, up, down, down, left, right, left, right, B, A, Select, Start for my life right now. Just give me something to give me a jump on this; something to put it within my abilities. I’m not asking for a hand out, just a leg up. I’m playing the game of life with both hands on the controller. What is the magic word?

It’s a lovely picture isn’t it? It looks so appealing, so much like it should. Even with all these pieces missing it’s a puzzle worth piecing together. My mind spins in this over and over. I’m making spin art with Jimmy Carter in my head and he’s telling me all the things I should have said in all the moments I let slip away. What do you know Jimmy? What do you say? What can I say Jimmy, and is it going to matter now or is it too late? What is the magic word?

I wish I had a switch. I wish I had a reset button. I wish there was a real world equivalent of blowing into the cartridge of you Nintendo game and hoping it works this time. Just one blast of air and its done, just one hard blow and it all works out fine. If only. I’m no slouch at being a blow hard; I have words upon words that flow like a river out of the mountains. But I can’t find the right ones sometimes, I look at this puzzle and a lump fills my throat and I freeze. Perhaps I need sticks and stones to accomplish this task. Perhaps I simply need to know… What is the magic word?

What would I do if the game was won, if the pretty puzzle suddenly came together, what would I do with something like that? I know don’t you know, I know. Have you not heard, I’m a reluctant strategist, I always have a plan whether I want to have or not. I know exactly what I would do. Don’t you know? Am I so opaque? I think not. My veins are showing and my eyes tell stories I can’t put to utterance, there are volumes to read, shall I fetch your reading glasses, oh wait your already wearing them. Just do me a favor and don’t skip to the end just yet. What is the magic word?

Pretty poison courses through my veins while I’m playing Galaga with Ernest Hemmingway. Soft lit enigmas taunt me from darkened corridors while Ben Fold’s play Landed. Crimson skys wash out in a sea of Purple rain while assassin kittens play at war games with calipers and cat nip. Rancid Twinkies twirl Wonder Woman’s lasso while Jesus inspires another chorus. What is the Magic word?

Do you know it, can you speak it, and can you make it all make sense. This cosmic aberration stands before us stark naked like an unashamed child, too young to know. This harmonic ringing pierces me again and again as I look for the word to say. The phrase that pays. The pearl of wisdom that purchases all. Won’t you please just tell me… What is the magic word.

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