The man woke up.

He walked to his refrigerator hoping to find last nights left over veal, but he doesn't.
He thought maybe it's a sign veal is bad in the morning, so he made his coffee and sat down to watch the news.
Linda Sparoski was on talking about Gun rights.
"I kind've want a gun, but it probably wouldn't be the best idea."
He kept watching until he heard someone at the door.
Paranoid, he crept up to the peep hole.
Peering through he saw an elderly woman delivering what looked to be like a package.
"I wasn't expecting anything... **** it must **** to be her age"
He waited until the frail old woman made her way back to the UPS truck and drove away.
He went outside to pick up the box, only to find it very light. Much lighter than he expected.
On the outside scribbled in blue pen was "The man's name" so he knew it was for him.
He saw it was taped up pretty good, kind've how a child wraps a Christmas present.
He grabbed his kitchen knife.
"Scissors are like double knifes, except you don't need a cutting board."
He put the knife back and grabbed a pair of scissors.
"Scissors are ****** double knifes."
He put the scissors back and grabbed the knife.

When he returned to the box, he seemed to stare at the handwriting for quite some time.
He began to cut into the box.
On removal of the layers of scotch tape was a little note before the rest of the box could be open.
"Promise me?"
He was really confused now.
"I need more coffee"
Chugging his third cup, the man returns to the box.
Determined to open it.
He lifts the ***** keeping the pieces of cardboard box cube shaped, and begins to look inside.
The man sees photographs stacked on top of a few letters.
"Possibly something underneath."
As he dug through he saw a picture of himself dressed as Captain America on Halloween.
He tries remembering that Halloween but just can't quiet do it.
"I was never Cap.. "
He dug through more.
Found pictures of old beach houses he vaguely remembers, some pictures almost looked like a sonic drive through.
Stomach growl.
"Last nights quesadilla"
The man went to his fridge, with no luck of finding this cheesey goodness.
In fact his fridge was empty.
He doesn't remember it being empty.
He starts thinking about Halloween.
The man kicks the box under his coffee table, and stumbles to bed, even though it is only 6:47 pm.
Dreams of sand.
Dreams of sand.
Dreams of water.
Dreams of her.

The man woke up.

He heads to his coffee ***.
He has not made coffee yet.
He heads to his refrigerator to find last nights left over lasagna.
"When did I make that? 2 weeks-ago-ish?"
He does not find lasagna.
His coffee is done brewing.
He walks away without a cup to find the box.
The news was still on. Linda Sparracci was on talking about the man's town.
She said that the man's town was experiencing the worst drought since two thousand and sixteen.
"What year is it?"
The man tries to find a calendar but only finds twelve.
"So it could be 2025, 2026, 2028... Wait."
He deducted that it must be 2026, for this calendar had the most dates circled, and he has felt quite busy recently.
The man then fell.
When he came too he was on the couch.
It was snowing out.

Deciding it must be around December  time, he goes throughout his home looking for objects to wrap up and give to his family.
He finds a box.
The box has a note on the outside
"Promise me"
Without looking through the box, he wraps it up with what he can find.  
Thinking of where to send it, he thinks of the first address he can remember, presumably his parents house, and sends the box off.
"Captain America... "
The man decides to watch Duck Dynasty season 34 for the first time, without seeing the prior 33 seasons.
The man passes out.
Dreams of white.
Dreams of red.
Dreams of death.

The man woke up.

He walked to his refrigerator hoping to find last nights left over veal, but he doesn't.
He thought maybe it's a sign veal is bad in the morning, so he made his coffee and sat down to watch the news.
Linda Spurokik was on, talking about the new Captain America movie.
"I was Captain America once.."
The man gets up to feed his dog.
The man does not have a dog anymore.
The man sits down.
Halloween 3 comes on the television.
He remembers getting her roses, because she was mad he didn't want to go trick or treating.
They ending up going trick or treating anyway.
She didn't like the roses.
The man tries to imagine what Michael Meyers must've felt like.
Being cast so many times over because of his creepy plastic face.
"I bet it was really hard to find other work though..."
The man was unsettled with this thought and turned off the television.
With nothing to more to do, he crawls to bed, even though it is only 6:24 pm.
No dreams
Just blackness.

The man woke up.

He heard someone at the door.
Paranoid, he crept down the stairs to the window.
Peering through he saw a young man delivering what looked to be like a package.
"I wasn't expecting anything... **** it must **** to be that young in this day and age"
He waited until the man made his way back to the USPS truck and drove away.
He went outside to pick up the box, only to find it very light. Much lighter than he expected.
On the outside scribbled in blue pen was "The man's name" so he knew it was for him.
When he opens the box he finds a picture of himself dressed as Captain America and she was beside him.
"Even trying to look ugly she was beautiful."
The man begins to cry a bit.
Gently places the picture down, he digs through more.
He finds an old Valentine's Day card.
"Signed your's forever, love you so much"
The man puts the contents of the box back, and gently pushes it under the table.
He turns the television on and Linda Sadok is on talking about a fire.
"3 dead, 2 injured with 3rd degrees burns along 85% percent of their body"
The man states "****" and turns the television off.
"I'd rather be one of the three than one of the two"
The man grabs the last pack of tostitos he can find, and chows down for awhile.
The man dozes off.  

A few hours later the man awakes.
He house is quieter than normal, but he normally has all the washing machines running so he thinks "all good."
Walking to his refrigerator, he finds it filled with Mexican Taco Hot Pockets.
Not wanting to get fat, he rejects this refrigerator and demands a new one.
He does not get it.
Hot pocket.
He walks to his coffee table.
It is very long.
His box is gone.
Befuddled, he walks to his hallway to check under the door.
Upon opening the door, his house leads to another one of his houses.
It is the same house though, it's just his other one.
Walking to the refrigerator, he finds it filled with ingredients for fresh pesto and Texas toast.
Thinking maybe it would upset his stomach. He throws the fridge down his garbage disposal.
On returning to his living room, he sees a man.
This man is talking to the man about life.
Talking about how long could one go on for in the same space.  
This man tells the man, maybe you should **** yourself.
Get out.
The man has never liked suicide.
But given the preposterous conditions of his life, he thinks about it.
This man says a hand full of advil or a few too many sleeping pills could do it.
The man says no.
"I can't leave, I'm not done yet.
Then, this man asks what the man has not finished yet.
"I don't remember..."
This man tells the man, that he is not Captain America and disappears.
The man disagrees.
"Photo evidence"

The man wakes up.

He finds the contents of the box sprawled all over his chest.
He had fallen asleep on the couch.
He hears her say goodnight.
He says I love you.
There is no one there.
He crawls to bed, and it is 2:34 am.
He cannot sleep.
This man returns to him.
This man asks the man if he had finished what he wanted to finish.
The man says no.
This man asks why once more.
"She's still gone, i'm not letting go"
This man says the man already has.
The man rolls over in his bed.
This man says you've been done here for awhile.
The man pretends to be asleep,
motionless, yet awake for hours.

The sun never came up, because he didn't want it too.
The fridge was always empty, because he didn't want to eat.
The box would appear, because he wanted it too.
She was gone, because he knew she was gone.
He stayed, and kept resealing and opening that box. Day in day out.
Surviving healthy off of nothing at all.

He never left.

Age 19- 2018 Graduation from High school

Age 25- 2024 Graduation for physiology

Age 25- 2024 Get a job in physiology, maybe start dating

Age 27- 2026 Maybe I’ll get married

Age 28- 2027 Maybe we will have a child

Age 29- 2028 Maybe we will buy a house with a really heavy mortgage

Age 49- 2048 Maybe our kid would move out

Age 51- 2050 Maybe we will buy a new house

Age 69- 2068 Maybe finally we will be able pay off the mortgage

Age 72- 2071 Maybe I could finally retire

Age 83- 2082 Maybe I will look back and wonder if I am satisfied with what I have done.

in 2028 we will have a space station circling mars
i have never felt something rattle me so deeply through my heart
my bones will not stop trembling when i look to the stars
i can not stop the twitching in my toes telling me to go
i always threw out “astronaut” as a dream of a dream
something there but always out of reach
but now i know that i can touch down before i’m in my mid-thirties
i see the full moon and i can’t stop the shaking
send me home
send me home
send me home
a teacher asked me if, given the opportunity
would i take a one-way ticket off-planet,
and never look back?
and i laughed
and i told him
mars is not far enough away from earth
send me to saturn and pluto and tie me to halley
i am ready to touch other stars
i love the sun but she is not my Sun
i love the moon but she is not my Moon
i have been sick of earth since i knew that i could be
send me on missions to put it all behind me
“what about your family”
what about anybody?
what about anybody?
i don’t want to be alone in the cold of space
i want to find something out there that might be companionable to the human race
i want to go home
i want to go home
i’m not sure how far that will take me
and i’m not sure how far past it will be from mars
but i know that getting up there will be the hardest part
lift-off
houston, we’ve got a problem
i don’t have enough rocket fuel to get out of this solar system
let’s use a gravitational slingshot to throw me out of orbit
i’ll love earth when she is the little blue dot on a map of the stars
andromeda holds my heart
send me to mars
send me to mars
let me return to the red of my heart

I wake and it’s here,
in my shallow breath
the cold rising—
fear is all fingers, cold boney fingers coiling
squeeze lungs twisting muscles
greedy morning glory fingers reach
and wring

I fear so much—
being too cold, too hot, too fat
too hungry
untethered
too broken, too wrong, too right
unbending
giving too little, too much
missing the point
I fear 2028
rich white men
on top
waters rising, babies crying
in closets
I fear death, but pain more, I fear death
but leaving more
heights and small spaces, I fear losing
my freedom and the freedom I’ve lost
I only have one pair of feet

I fear the future

I fear the future fear imagines—
weeping mothers stinking waters
broken earth, apocalyptic
winners and losers, alone
in brambles or white rooms
passed over by
Wholeness

       My eyes tune in
to shifting light

Fear is all cold fingers and high drama—
cracking knuckles, it writes its own story
always the same score, sly rascal
and grandiose,
end to its beginning

       Feet find the cold morning floor
my fingers know the way to kettle and pen
I’ll write a different ending

We did so much together, but when her time came to enter  through heavens doors , I was stopped. As she walk through the doors I watched the softess glowing white feathered wings form upon her back , and a glistening halo of gold instantly appeared , floating above her head , just as she floated into the majestic kingdom. As she turn to face me one last time , I saw my friend, the way she used be , before the ALS ravaged her body and soul. I saw not one sign of pain and no tears falling , but a smile of love and pure peace

Written by E. M . Rushton
Aug 31, 2028

2024 is coming,
that futurity is guaranteed.
Can you feel it coming?
There’s magic in the air.
I’m excited, as if someone put euphorics in my breakfast cereal.

“Tonight,” Lisa said, twirling before her oblong moon-mirror, “we’re going to show them we can dance!” “We are,” I agreed.
“I wish I were going,” 14-year-old Leeza sighed.
“2028,” Lisa promised, now modeling an alternate dress, “You, me, crazytown.”
Liza groaned. I remember being 14, patience is an infinitely dull tool.

“How does this look?” Lisa asked, stopping to stand tiptoed and simulate wearing heels.
“You’ll look like wrapped candy,” I assured her.
Glamor is alive and well this New Year’s eve.

🎉🥳🥂🎈 Happy New Year Everyone! 🎈🥂🥳🎉  
I hope you all have fun.

My love has no expiration date
It'll be just as good in 2028
My love for you will never expire
it'll be there when you and I retire
My love will never go bad or get old
in fact it multiplies a hundredfold 
My love you can't measure with any gauge
because my love, like you, gets better with age

Glad for birth write to express views
aware cunning linguists
will apply figurative screws  
in an effort at blatant mud slinging ruse
exercised courtesy mail in ballots,
or electorates standing in queues
who the previous Sunday
possibly fervently prayed within pews
a mixture of Republican and Democratic

gentiles (relating to or indicating
a nation or clan, especially a gens)
and orthodox or reformed Jews,
although dissimilar viewpoint you may choose,
perhaps feeling exuberant
crying tears of joy
with red eye to boot
unlike myself (a common Joe)
biden his time until 2028
until then experiencing moody blues.

The following mostly written
November 6th, 2018,
nevertheless, I copy and paste
bulk of previously crafted poem
applicable to 2024 presidential election
nearly six years to date
from forty fifth elected
meddling,  scheming, and yawping
commander in chief.

Das Don Auld (can hardly tank
tucker - son of Carl, and leave
landscape barren) calling out
rigged ken tuckered hoarfrost race,
viz demolition derby presaging
death to White Anglo Saxon
democracy DOMS (delayed
onset muscle soreness)
minions decry diplomacy,
crass denunciation of
Stacey Abrams

liberally Apple eyeing jingoistic rhetoric
declare defamation directly
upon disparate grass roots
hegemony, hectoring, heckling,
and harassing humble hobby (lobby) horse
sense, asper progressive
democrats hurrahing, holstering, hitching
visa vis disc hovering rays in the sky,
no fault in our stars,
harnessing healthy,

honesty, humility plowing,
sowing, and tilling political
terrain at expense tubby
execrably, damnably, cruelly,
brutally, nagged, branded,
and whipped malevolently,
mercilessly, and mischievously
lambasted by fourth grade
vocabulary level former commander
in chief exuding: haughtiness,
doughy bully pronouncing

prescriptions provisioning
one percent pampered
population attending one
born at Jamaica Hospital in Queens,
New York City hobnobbing,
galavanting, fawning...
at ego inflating functions
exploiting downtrodden
under most class "dirt poor"
bilked proletariat segment.

Pinnacle (topping Taj Mahal),
now owns Birds eye
bourgeoisie view, which
informs hawkish word
smiths, onlookers with
powerfully pointed outlook
excellent access, sans zealous,
vociferous, uxorious, and traitorous
tyrannical reigning Rex
less lee pugnacious noxious

loose xenophobic,
jabberwocky, demagoguery
laced jargon surly *******,
quizzically, pugilistic-allied,
outrageously punching
imaginary nemesis, linkedin
with instagram, snapchat
twittering skulking arch
conservative enemies
clandestinely undermining

(bone a fide skulduggery)
ambitions to turn back
figurative clock, applauding,
cobbling, counting crowdsource
to elect forty seventh
commander in chief
to reboot, remake, and retry
to restore American (post
world war II) hit parade
soundtrack resonating

with ardent blatant
bigotry, colored blinders,
devilish foo fighting
patriotism, nepotism, localism,
gerrymandered, jury rigged
Russian hijacked pollster
precincts, nativism milking
titillating conspiracy theorists,
denouncing radical ambidextrous
righteous leftists, silencing

second amendment agent
challenges provocateurs,
lake wobegon raconteurs,
and saboteurs infiltrating
highest echelons with spooky
intelligent poseurs, and green
lighting one man plutocrat
steamrolling aborted blackened
civil disobedience (Thoreau Lee)
walled in reproductive rights.

Since pledging my troth
to the missus July 25th, 1996
after the comma error
punctuated mein kampf with disequilibrium.

Ever since the notions
of life, liberty and pursuit of happiness
coalesced within the mindscape
attributed to one
or more anonymous forebears
way before the advent of civilization
when written language preserved
(**** sapiens communicated
virtual primal groans and grunts),

nevertheless witnessing inchoate awakening
visa vis dawning enlightenment
bajillions of years after
earth, wind and fire
affected ideal environment
for Beatle browed foo fighters
Nirvana oriented proto humans
among rival capital one group
of beastie boys versus another.

Each subsequent generation embodied
propensity to acquire heavenly delight
characterized courtesy
storied primeval human associations
to wrestle with promotion
of mental, physical and spiritual autonomy.

Once self-determination awoke
animal hides did cloak
daggers if antagonism occurred
especially as high society
coaxed fibers inviting village people
to invent legislation to evoke
amity particularly once firearms
witnessed proliferation of gunsmoke
(and the Western genre as film noir)
after shoot-'em-ups erupted,
when scapegoat mustered courage

(after chomping powder milk biscuits)
bad to the bone bully underestimated chutzpah
courtesy said shy person,
yours truly did invoke
adulation and garnered
within figurative keystroke
generated winning vote
cast strictly by menfolk
if I vouchsafed would
NOT be pig in a poke

as happened countless millenniums later,
when forty fifth president
of lands slated to become
United States of America
would try to revoke
his successor mudslinging him,
(the latter, a common joe biden time),
a veritable teetotaler,
who swore, he rarely took a ****.

Blame aforementioned
blue collar Scranton boy yup
blimey bloke woke up
after leaving Oval Office
early one Autumn morning
bright eyed and bushy tailed
after an eight year stint,
whereby the electorate majority
approved former occupant
of “Executive Mansion”

(circa 2020 - 2028)
admitting admirable administration
donned hat of clown
earning a living wage
and taking page from playbook of bozo,
who brought good humor and laughter,
where tragedy wrought woe
visited webbed wired wide world
(once trod upon by the noble savage
as described by Jean-Jacques Rousseau)

whipping out trademark Dobro,
(a contraction of "Dopyera brothers"
and a word meaning "goodness"
in their native Slovak,
who introduced said instrument in 1928)
kickass nimble octogenarian
(accompanied by the band
Tripping Up Stairs)
performed outstanding show
capering, dancing, gliding,
high jumping, et cetera across the stage

hither and yon, to and fro
contagiously gifting, letting riotous hoopla
ring out across Land of Lake Wobegon
spontaneously kickstarting
audience of senior citizens
(including yours truly)
to shuck off mantle of senescence
(and clothes in the same process
after gaining courage
to join Barenaked Ladies)
hooting and trumpeting nouveau
playfulness summoning
rebirth of childlike spirit.

How carefree and ideal to identify
with mindset of Alfred E Neuman
Mad Magazine what me worry
unfortunately as a little boy
yours truly beset with mental health issues
Anorexia Nervosa the most serious
potential to develop healthily
self starvation eradicated
courtesy the expertise of psychiatrist
Ted Goldberg my parents did employ
subsequently eating disorder

manifested as hair obsession
with a vengeance,
when maybe some dozen years later
while completing a co-op
linkedin to enrollment at Antioch College
at facility I chose called
Chicago Ecology Resource Center in Illinois,
and who should make
a small teleporting cameo appearance,
but none other than Leonard Nimoy,
albeit his likeness manufactured as plastic
popular gewgaw enterprising toy.

Courtesy the most flimsy tenuous
designs linkedin to above lines
availed and linkedin thru
Unitarian Church affiliation while a youth,
(now negligible participant,
who would never join any group
that would accept me as a member)
an important connection throve with 1976
Norristown Area High School alum
Frankie Augustine Junior a brain,
plus admirable ruler
of tribbles and klingons to boot.

As an otherworldly webbed wordsmith,
I befriended said lad,
who became best earthling chum,
whose birthday (January eleventh
nineteen fifty nine) two days before mine,
our camaraderie did rattle and hum
until he attended Rensselaer
Polytechnic Institute (majoring
in nuclear engineering)
landing himself a plum job.

Our friendship since foundered
unlike the enterprising television show,
which captured the imaginations
of countless young and older people alike.

By 1986, 17 years after entering syndication,
Star Trek considered
the most popular syndicated series;
by 1987, Paramount made $1 million
from each episode;
and by 1994, the reruns
still aired in 94% of the United States.