At the end of a bad day, desperate to get away from it all, I said Fuck it and stuck my head in the sand.
All the way in. Well past my ears.
Know what I saw?
Cigarette butts and plastic bags.
Lunging upward for air, lungs bursting, I overshot the surface and landed atop the clouds. Right next to the moon.
He was taking a well-deserved smoke break.
Moon said, Looks like you got things on your mind.
I asked him, Is the world ending?
Well, Bub, Moon shrugged, It sure as hell ain’t going back to the beginning.