Like with most things, her face curved into expressions of curiosity. I, on the other hand, wanted to just completely disappear. I kept wanting to vanish, vanish like fog through a pair of fishnet stockings draped on a clothesline in an empty field. And there was no woodpecker outside our window this morning. The pounding beak had instead been replaced with the heavy drone of sunshine to earth. If I couldn’t let my body disintegrate into the air I could at least allow my mind to spread like dandelion fuzz into a spring breeze.
So then, somewhere in fields of blue flowers, glass-winged insects danced while on a train station platform, stamps blew like leaves among the loafers and high-heels of those waiting for the scheduled nectar to arrive. And in an outdoor pavilion somewhere, the sun foisted its countless, bright rapiers upon the succulent capsules of potted jade plants, like dry palms and dry fingers over hot halogen bulbs, a backlit burn, an eerie flesh-light.
That night I would have dreamt of a calendar without dates, a clock without numbers. I could have dreamt of pay phone receivers dangling and swinging like rosaries clutched between the gnarled hands of the elderly penitent. I might have dreamt of Moroccan mint tea drank within the false confines of wall-less houses. I wanted to dream entire worlds viewed through such pinhole lenses. No apex pointing towards heaven like our favorite monolith which has yet to be hewn from the face of the treeless mountain. No flocks of black birds that looked instead like a school of sea creatures, moving as one, stretching out and snapping back like a rubberband, an organized chaos, moving more like smoke, maybe, or like free-tailed bats than birds.
No comments:
Post a Comment