kings of the hill

what was there not to love about the job?

— elite status. legitimate bad ass. the best aparatus.

all of his friends wanted to be him.

— flying high. winking fly. girls straight to die.

every morning over coffee he thanked his lucky stars.

and as he ripped atmosphere, he’d look down on the lowly cars.

Now was his time. He was ready to serve. He’d firmed up every nerve. His intentions wouldn’t swerve.

So, why the sunglasses?

Just part of the gear?

Equipped for the gig?

Costume?

No. Not merely that.

The glasses hid, what only his soul saw in movies, in the middle of those nights.

The glasses hid his wonderings.

Wonderings about who all died, every time he flipped those switches.

— but his pilot smile, it lingered.

that’s the costume.

that was the part you dressed, to live up to the role you played.

his role was not bad.

-he was king of the hill!


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