"let's dive in and turn up green in search of our roots," oh. bob dylan on the record player. contrast in diction, Spanish Boots. a bumbling mumbo jumbo extravaganza. i feel it coming on.
i'm slurping my soup alone, saving my radish for the horses, not knowing how to read you this time. hesitating. orange and gray. pulling my hood up.
"look up Make-Believe in the dictionary, it's there. mark it." page four-twelve. put your feather in the crack. the receding hairline fracture between obscurity and exposition. your make-shift whimsy. your fanciful fits of sleep. so many tongues loosened, sidewinded toungue twister, naked on the board, red plastic pointer spinning. "gotcha. you're out." the brilliance of all your bulbs burning up. a light show.
use your plain brain to imagine my fancy cortex. do i look red to you? redder than normal? no, i haven't been in the sun. i've been underground, i have dirt between my teeth. see?
how am i supposed to read you, you riddle me with running to the books. everything keeps falling off the shelf, the spanish-english translator fell on my head again. pull me apart to see the mechanisms that move you. don't be shy. i don't feel like playing right now. cool september sun to close our wounds over. i am trying to promise.
hulking the oxford off the living-room-lectern to wear it, to defend my papery grace. get it? all these people with no voices, what difference does it make? he wants to know if i am happy here and have i eaten any apples yet. i have, and i'm not, and i'm hungry, and there are no apples left. my lips are red like the letter. sweet-blood swarming with fruit flies. apple-juice sloshing my tear ducts. how many fingers are you holding up? while i'm un-pinning un-sent envelopes from my chest, the elephants are stomping the un-book to shambles. i'm hiding in the laundromat or the library, i forget which. i want your favorite books to be trees like me. i want to let you live in my house like a sleepy cat. leave it at that. beautiful & awful & ridiculous like
being alone, like "Stranded in Peru?!" like pennsylvania in the station wagon, the suns go down like apricots, like running with crutches, like your mother eats blue-green algae, like taking your pants off in the parking lot, like "what's another word for Faithlessness?" like falling cauliflower coral, yellow apples with brown leaves, like Danger in love with your imaginary friend, like timelessness, endlessnesss, everything that won't stop in multiplicity. fluffy bunnies scrambling the warm cobblestone hearth on their big, dumb feet. like noses rubbing for luck. fluffy gray kissing. like Make-Believe in the dictionary, spelled-out, hyphenated: soft blue guts exposed.
spell it out. there is no game. i believe in it.
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