Thursday, September 17, 2009

Go When Ya Gotta Go

This one is about being trapped in a utility closet. It's newly built, with sawdust and the smell of freshly bludgeoned two by fours, or four by fours? Somehow, someone locked me in here and I have to pee. I look around the closet for a bucket. The room grows longer and I see another door at the end of the hall. The door is slightly ajar so I push it open. Eureka! A bathroom. I try not to let my jeans fall below my ankles and touch the floor. As I'm looking around and wondering when I'm going to be found by whomever is looking for me, I admire the gorgeous marble work and the dupioni moss green silk shower curtain. There's a bidet and matching soft green hand towels by the sink. The faucet is shaped like a gold swan. "Very nice" I think to myself.

I finish my business and pause long enough to pick up a candle on the tub rail to see who the manufacturer is. Smells like jasmine and bamboo. I hear a scratching noise and look down the hall. There are mice running at me....Lots of mice. They're screeching or screaming, I can't tell it's hard to discern their little vocal patterns. I panic, I hate mice. Why the hell are they running after me? I find myself back in the small utility closet and they start crawling up my pant leg. They're climbing faster than I can bear to grab them and fling them away.

Then I notice they have human faces.

Wednesday, September 16, 2009

I Had Too Much To Dream Last Night

I was trapped in incredibly bizarre dreams last night, the kind that you can't awake from, the kind you receive snippets from throughout the day and try, try so hard to take yourself back to that dream moment to remember.

One was vaguely about parking my black Volvo in a lot, going to some get-together at night. I had bought new stereo speakers earlier in the day, in the dream they were huge, four feet high. They barely fit in the backseat.

There was a backyard picnic. There was partying, grilling, beer. Lots of people I didn't know, but easily had a great time. Looking for my car, it's gone. Now I'm wandering in a church parking lot looking for my car. There are millions of cars in the same spots as they were when I parked, only mine is gone. The parking spot void of any evidence, heat, of an object having been there. I worry about the speakers. I guess this is a burglary, they must have wanted the speakers, but they were too big to just smash and grab?

The cops are called. At least ten hours have transpired from walking away from the party to see a huge gaping hole in the parking lot. Like a smile with an obvious missing front tooth. Odd thing is, it's still pitch black outside with a grayish edge to it. Now I'm having a dream within this dream. I'm rationalizing my car may NOT be missing. It's a black car, now in the dream I'm remembering it as an older model hearse. So, I think maybe I just can't SEE the car because it's so dark out. In the continuing interior dream, a bit of a Shakespearean aside, I'm thinking the car is simply blending into the dark. If I close my eyes and just thrust my hands forward, I'll touch the car, find the handle and that's that.

Things get a bit sinister....the cops figure someone is pulling a prank, someone who knows me, who knew I bought speakers and who knows I'll be freaked out by this stunt. The cop opens his wallet and shows me pictures of people. The pictures are overlayed collages of people's eyes and noses pasted onto other people's faces. I had no idea I had so many enemies.

Thursday, August 27, 2009

Miles To Go

I sure picked a bad time to be in love. I should have not let those tomatoes rot on the counter. I should have taken my meds. Taking a crow bar to the ATM machine wasn't such a hot idea either.

My car is packed and I have a dog eared map to New Jersey. I think I have to take the Parkway, or is it the Thruway? Maybe I'll just follow a car with Jersey plates and hope I make it by nightfall.

Friday, August 21, 2009

Back Alley Chat

"This is how I find out?!" I'm so enraged I'm shaking all over. We meet in a back alley. I have tufts of her hair as evidence, found in his bed. They are black and silky. Mine are reddish brown and wavy. "How long?! How did you meet? My God, in my house?" She's not answering me, just picking at her nails.

Someone from the restaurant opens the back door to throw garbage away. This startles her and she runs from me. Coward! "Ha, I hope your kittens have six toes just like their freak father. I hope you get run over by a truck!"

I'm heartbroken, sick, sad, but still want to find out what's in the garbage.

Thursday, August 20, 2009

Of Course I Didn't Leave My Name

Low carb, high protein. Hmmmm, looks good. I throw it into my cart. I need avocados and cilanto too. Lobster is on sale. $6.99 a pound. I begin thinking about the rubber bands on their claws. Poor little guys, girls? I'll sneak in tonight and bring a hammer and free them. Then I remember it's a 24 hour grocery store.

"Number 118, number 118!" "Oh, hi how about a pound of provolone, sliced thin."
Two hundred sixty four dollars later, I'm loading the groceries into the back of the Volvo. I always return my cart back to the cart docks, so rude that lazy asses can't take a few steps away from their recently procured bag of Doritos and aeresole cheese in a can to return the cart! I feel like playing bowling ball cart. I give her a good heave and she heads straight for the dock. An unexpected wind gust catches her silver hands and she careens into a massive black Dodge Durango. SMACK, THUD, SCUTTLE SCUTTLE.

Oh shit! I run over to the truck, the cart has begun a game of chase. I catch it and return it where it should have been. The truck is on humongous wheels, the front of the truck is almost chest level to me. I don't see any scratches, or swelling, no bruising. I look around to see if anyone saw me....don't think so.

I search my car floor for paper and pen. I scribble a note on my weekly church offering envelope. "MY CART GOT AWAY FROM ME. IT DIDN'T DO ANY DAMAGE, BUT I THOUGHT I WOULD LEAVE YOU THIS NOTE." I drew a smiley face, tucked it under the wiper and drove away.

Wednesday, August 19, 2009

What A Fine Pickle I've Gotten Myself Into

I knew I had to stop him. "Think! think woman!" I reached into my satchel and brought out a greasy brown paper bag from earlier this afternoon. I had a sandwich while waiting for my oil change. It was tasty. Black forest ham, brie, tomato, red onion and a dollop of humus rolled snugly in a whole wheat wrap. I smelled the bag and thought fondly of my lunch. A warm, limp dill pickle awaited my desperate grasp.

I climbed down onto the subway tracks. Desperate measures for love. The tunnel was thick with emptiness, no one saw me, all too consumed with their own thoughts and what awaited them in their homes at the end of the day. I wedged the pickle in the southbound tracks, hoping this would stop the train. A horrible crash would occur. The local news would be all over this one! He would then have to know now how much I love him.

The Same Thing Everyday

I let my dog out every morning around 7:30. His name is Deja Vou. He never, ever comes when I call for him. It's the same thing every morning.