the harmless question
Stepping outside, the light looks different these days, like my eyes are a part of it all.
The phone cracks in my hand as the sounds of helicopters overhead cover the sky in static.
He likes dry heat and noise; the stuff that weighs on humans.
The sky is empty-blue; the vastness thankfully disrupts my sobriety. It’s been a few days in the company of the Lotus and Damiana. “Damiana” sounds beautiful to me, like a name of a goddess or a Muse.
I have visions of unloading upon unsuspecting clinicians and professors walking the balance beam tentatively. To see the effects of an assault of another’s reality… it’s almost worth it.
“What have you been up to?”
A harmless question bound to small talk.
Fashioning fire elementals in make-believe stories of the explorations of childhood. Watching my eyes turn blue from outside my body. Dressing in rainbow mirrors while reciting lines from my favorite characters. Oh, and critiquing comments, compiling information from the past seventy years on one topic, taking socially acceptable drugs in the office, deciding what to prove and how, coping with the vengeful billing companies and vampiric systems that cast themselves as angels of opportunity.
“Same old, y’know.”
The nod. Oh, how I love the nod and all its applications.
My mind floats over to a helical landscape; different lives, one shape. One would never suspect… I wear a plush toy as a bracelet for kicks as well as to honor certain forces of gravity in my world. My stories are songs for them.
Though the sun is out at this time of day,
Night is in my mind,
the moon behind my irises.
The reversed images seen in the dark are recorded on thin paper stained with tea and bleeding ink.
Soft colors hum in and out.
I phase to the background, enveloped in spirals of smoke.
The play of characters moves on,
each half-asleep to their silent remote control.
We watch adaptations of our own stories unfold, unconscious to the button-pressing we do with our left hand.