This is called two windows.

Two windows made of glass.

One is black. One is clear.

One window shows me elsewhere. The other shows me here. One window illuminates a world seemingly gone mad,

spectacles of hatred and everything that's bad. The other instills calmness with clouds up in the

sky, green grass with bandalions and songbirds flying by. The first window is bright, but the light is

artificial. The second one is lit by none other than the sun. The first window is selling things and

telling me they're beneficial. Window two has far less for sale than does window one. The first window shows me

people who lie and steal and cheat. The second one has children riding bicycles down the street.

From the first I get the notion that sex is no big deal. My wife is pregnant and the other one, proving miracles are real.

I see her stewarding the garden with her hands tending to the dirt. Meanwhile, on the first one, I see people getting hurt.

The first window has programs and channels to peruse

and lots and lots of opinions masquerading as the news.

Information from the second indicates that there is a breeze

by the leaves there gently swaying on the branches of my trees.

Window one I gaze straight into.

Window two I look right through.

Window one is done with a button.

Two turns on with each new dawn to start the day anew.

Oh, what would be if window one were here no more? Would stories revert to verbal like they

were in days of yore? Would the pace of life slow down? Would attention spans increase? And what about

the rate of crimes? Would their quantity decrease? Perhaps that day will never come, so all I can do is ponder while I glance outside the

...