Rubik’s Cube

I carry my Rubik’s cube everywhere I go.  I like the way it feels between my fingers.  Smooth.  I like the ‘stop and click’ it makes when I twist it.  One, two, four, five…twist ‘click’ twist…One, two, four, five…twist ‘click’ twist.  [Repeat, repeat].  Sometimes I feel naked, absent, without it.  Though I’ve never bothered to actually solve it.  Not conventionally at least.  I’m sure I could, but I like the mixing of colors.  The different patterns;  The random that’s never really random.   Instead, I make my own rules.  My own game.  I suppose that means I halfsolve it.  Maybe that’s enough for me.  Half.  Better than none, right?  Half a cookie. Half a glass, full or empty.  I don’t really care.  If half is what I have, at least I have it.  Even if it is emptiness.  It’s my emptiness. Not yours. Mine.  I take all of my emptiness and wrap it up like a child in swaddling cloth ignoring the nothingness that I put inside it.  I hold it close to my heart, never bothering to unwrap it.  Never looking.  Never seeing.  Never caring.  One, two, four, five…twist ‘click’ twist.  I step on my heel, turn to the left or the right, or whichever suits me at the time, and walk on as the world disappears beneath my feet.

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