The jellyfish take the 6:00 AM train down to the beach. Some of the jellyfish make it through the sliding doors, some of them fall off the platform onto the tracks. I am the only not jellyfish on the train. The jellyfishes’ electric thoughts paint the ceiling of the car, the windows lit with neon oceans. When I get off at my stop, I am wearing one of the jellyfish as a hat. At the office, everyone has their own jellyfish hat. I like your hat, Bob, I say. And you as well compliment me on my hat. We undulate through the day, passing paperclips and staplers, sipping burnt coffee. The stingers reaching down through the pores of our hair fill our bodies with stimuli. All together we sit at our computers and write memo after memo about the moon rising over the waves.
— JUSTIN HOLLIS
Justin Hollis currently resides in Lake Worth, Florida. He has an MFA from Hofstra University and currently teaches language and literature at Palm Beach State College. His work has appeared previously in many literary journals.