1.
The event precedes any actual event, it’s more
like the foretelling of an event or the idea of a possible event. The event
exists only in the future. The idea of the event, however, exists now.
Since the event exists in the future we are
uncertain about the nature of the event. Perhaps the earth has moved or the
earth will move again. Perhaps fire; perhaps flood. Perhaps none of these but
an insidiousness that wraps like fog around everything and nothing is ever OK
again. This leads us to believe that nothing has ever been OK.
Nothing has ever been OK.
Nothing will ever be OK again, in the future. But
maybe there will be a dog; no blankets but some jackets; someone to help you
steer. Maybe we can hitchhike together and end up somewhere, either uphill or
downhill from where we are now.
2.
I have sometimes imagined things into existence.
By “things” I mean not just events, but emotions, a series of actions and
reactions and promises or confidences compromised or broken all because of my
imagination and my desire. I refuse to stop imagining. I don’t believe it
possible to stop desiring. So I must continue to walk. Now, I have a companion
who will match me, step for step. This is not the dream speaking, this is real.
I do not wish to imagine things into existence,
except when I do.
I sometimes have imagined things into existence.
“Things” take place in the desert; “things” take place in the snow; “things”
take place in the future and in the past and on couches in houses we later only
somewhat remember. By “we” I mean we. Things take place and then, when they’ve
happened, only fragments remain. There was a moment when I didn’t have to
imagine.
3.
And then sometimes I want to scream. And then
someone shoots, again. And then, exclamation point.
4.
“And then she/he/it/we/they woke up” is not an option.
I don’t know who anyone really is. But at some point below “zero” the
temperature becomes abstract. The pain does not. I keep staring. I keep staring
at things. Nothing changes. Nothing remains.
