Electrons gather on the glossy faces of the flowers, Protons gather on the buzzing bodies of the bees. They know when they touch, there will be a spark, But it is in their nature to kiss, honey and pollen. When you rub your socks across the carpet, When you close your car door without the handle, When you turn the pages of the hymnal, too fast, These things slightly increase the statistical chances God will roll up the heavens like a scroll and smite you. No matter where you are, who you love, or who you fuck, There is a 1 in 15,300 chance that God will strike you down. When you flip your pillow to the cold side, When you travel by airplane instead of car, When you caress your lover's skin beneath the sheets. The texture of the polyester pews and the nylon carpet, Melted plastic after lightning struck the church steeple. For all the sons and daughters, threatened with spittle It is in our nature to laugh and ask: What are the chances?
CS Crowe is three crows in a trench coat that gained sentience after eating a magic bean. He spends his days writing stories on a stolen laptop and trading human teeth for peanuts. A poet and storyteller from the Southeastern United States, he believes stories and poems are about the journey, not the destination, and he loves those stories that wander in the wilderness for forty years before finding their way to the promised land.