busy

let your hair hang in your eyes - it is time
to apply your eyeliner, it is time to untie
that sash. do me a solid: do you remember
when you were a fish, floating among the pale
women in pale dresses, floating too well? how
do you breathe in that blanket? i stood on
a lot of fire escapes then, and never jumped once,
i saw the sun go down behind the statue of liberty
and thought "what is upsetting mary beth tonight?
i wonder if i smile like this then will she smile as well?"
it is difficult to say - which is why it is frightening,
and worthwhile. it is why it would be better to be
hunted by a ninja than a zombie. it is better not
to float too much, to almost drown. if you get
on the bus, stand in the village for four hours,
and then get back on the bus and go home, i know
you will see a lot of girls, but i don't know where
they will be going to, and neither will you. you can
ask them, but they will raise their eyebrows, stretch
their necks, and talk about ash. their catholic upbringings,
and ash, and they will not be going anywhere,
because it takes too much time, and their make-up
is ephemeral, in the sense of a basket of candy corn,
or the illusion of continuity.

Time Travel

My dreams for the past few months have been very heavy. Skies on fire, buildings burning, black smoke enveloping the city, alien space crafts looming and crashing (the aliens themselves are never seen if they exist at all), rays of fire. Last Sunday I had the lightest dream I'd had in some time: I accidentally saved over a very important file at work. I woke up screaming.

But last night I had a different kind of dream. I had traveled back in time to 1979. I was in Corning, NY. At night, and near a kind of shopping plaza. Not quite like they're set up in suburban northeast. I found my dad. I said "Hey! Chris Black! I know you!" and we chatted a bit. He played guitar for me.