I grab a chair from the aged, concrete-crumbling front porch of mine.    

Right where my family’s halloween decorations sit,

Two skeletons, 

Sharing a beer.

They sit there, 

Lifeless,

But…

They’re already dead.

Right?

But maybe the two sets,

Sets of plastic bones could tell a story?

A tale of two pals sharing a drink?

Although they’re really only decorations;

They can tell the lore of anything..

Good,

Bad?

To me it looks like they’re having a grand time!

As I sit in this plastic chair, 

While the blades of grass around me poke my ankle,

I begin to think. 

Any shift of a detail,

Any small modification,

Could change the demeanor 

Of the picture I see. 

The one that’s now forever in my head. 

Maybe give them some look of bad attitude, 

Crime scene tape?

Now the tale would take a 180. 

It’s easy to spin things.

Only one drop of darkness..

In an ocean,

That’s been stained black.