Thursday, February 19, 2009

thought dream 021909

We analyzed the spatial coordinates, and
then the spatial coordinates were gone. I
detached the nimbus from my claw-hook
and went back to filing reports on the widower

in 2B who dresses up like a clown and does
magic tricks with his ukulele. Tony broke down
the door. We tortured the former government
officials, but it didn't make us feel any better.

It didn't make them feel any better either.
The guests left after the party: cheese dip on
the sofa, blood in the kitchen, a broken watch,
and three loads of empty bottles. We found

someone's cell phone in the refrigerator. I
took pictures of Suzie and uploaded them to
a web site called Absence of Angels. Once,
I fell asleep on a bus in Castile and woke up

many kilometers and several villages away
from my destination. It was the last bus of
the night in either direction. The driver
expressed sympathy. A dog barked, as I

stepped through the narrow streets of some
pueblo de no se que, past the slaughterhouse
and the shuttered plaza, and out into the
moonlit fields. Dressed for a committee meeting

I'd had that day, and carrying my briefcase,
I whistled Hoagy Carmichael as I hiked along
that road in the middle of nowhere, in the warm,
sumptuous dark. I had never been happier.


Liam said...


The Greeen Priestess said...

You did a good job of capturing the uncanny qualities of that night, and, for that matter, our whole time in Chinchon. I liked this one

cowboyangel said...

Wow, who is this mysterious Green Priestess? Sounds kind of sexy.