Paul was cereal: part V

[this box of Cookie Crisp  was opened on 1 February]

 

Paul was not this genre. Growling sounds behind him had prompted Paul to once again sprint sprint upwards. So many enjambments but no where to hide. Tracks behind him a guide to his heavy progress. The glossy brown borders moving up up reaching a ceramic sky.

 

“Two ice cubes. No more, no less”

 

A sloping whiteness, no trail or markers. Space dissolving behind in an orange heat. Paul finds a clearing, its openness astounding after weaving for so long through the boxy brown climbing clusters. Yet, despite this openness there is no sky view. Branches, timelines, style guides, newsletters, train schedules, academic journals, maps, calendars, cover sheets, text books, drafts, faxes, laundry lists, notecards, romance novels, parking tickets, encyclopedia articles, Christmas wrapping paper, penny dreadfuls, toilet tissue, concert tickets, day-to-day pullaway calendar sheets, shopping lists, business cards, graphic novels, television schedules, post-it-notes,  how to manuals, hate mail, hamburger wrappers, D&D guidebooks, telemarketing scripts, literary journals, business reports, flashcards, boarding passes, manifestos, wedding invitations, memos, Christmas cards, tree limbs, toilet paper, train tickets, visitor identification badges, twigs, outlines, flyers, self help books, pulp novels, announcements, vispo, indexes, comic books, dictionary pages, novellas, laws, proofs, newspapers, Mormon bible tracts,  zines, posters, scrap papers, straw encasements, paper bags, post cards, fan mail, tabloids, envelopes, legal documentation,  love letters, blue lines, sight seeing guides, class notes, court subpoenas, hard copies, arts magazines, bills,               , bulletins, tax return forms, magazine subscription inserts, loan applications, photopaper, notes passed, corrected copyedited pages, instruction manuals, xeroed copies, box tops, dot matrix printouts, children’s refrigerator artwork, standardized tests, stationary, finical records, stock reports, ticker tape,  appendices,  lined paper, certifications, telephone directories, loose leaf paper, & footnotes all form a canopy clotting out sky.

 

Centered in this clearing, a small grass halo with a cigarbox.

 

Will Paul ever find an open patch of sky? Will anyone actually read that text chunk or just scroll though to the next episode?

 

Tune in tomorrow for Part VI of “Paul was cereal”

Paul was wordcount.

Paul was bent. Like the fork buried in the back of the drawer.

Paul was keywords.

Paul was bent.