It’s three ay em Sunday morning, I have a hot mug of tea, a roll of Maryland chocolate chip cookies and I’m giggling uncontrollably on my sofa.
The television is off and my dogs are outside the door making confused noises.
The bamboo lamp beside the sofa is on, shedding a beautiful circle of orange light across the carpet.
I notice I am not casting a shadow.
I notice too, the taste of iron in my mouth, and my shoes, are not where I remember leaving them.
There is a black cape with red lining hanging on the coat stand, and the hands on my watch haven’t moved for hours.
There is a dog howling in the distance and the sound reverberates through the valley lifting dew off the thick canopy of bonsai trees that surround my apartment building.
I seem to remember going down to the laundry room and watching my neighbour load the drier.
Fat haunches, heaving bust, short breaths, plump fingers.
And a very fine neck.
Lordy this is strange…I think I just got a poem.
I’m giggling even more now, I’m giddy with pleasure and I don’t know why.
It’s like something’s just lifted, this thick black veil I’ve been walking with all week. No really, I don’t know what’s going on….
I used to listen to Sinead O’Conner or some other Canadian lady – can’t remember her name – but now I’m listening to the drums coming in from other side of the valley sneaking in past the sounds of traffic.
They’re dancing. Of course, it’s Sunday. We have these hazy groups (I can’t think of the word instead of hazy that I’m looking for…you know…ethereal…like they’re transient, there out of the corner of your eye, gone when you turn to look…if you get something, let me know) that have married Christ to The Ancestors and they gather and dress in old English clothing…like the pictures of Old Victorian ladies, and they run rhythmically, hypnotically through the avenues and lanes we have around here, moving in time to the drums, a man with blazing white eyes leading them.
Where is this going? I have NO IDEA!
I think I got a poem though, and that’s good enough for me.
Mood music? I don’t really put on music to listen to. I put on music to dance.
Look, that’s gonna have to do you lot! My brains doing its own thing!
Whatever you’re listening too, I hope you’re not on headphones. I swear I saw the curtains move.
-visit my poetry blog – Tomatos, Oranges and Other Fruit–
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