July 29, 2009

• California

  I woke up-
      and a man was serving me chicken or beef. I chose the chicken. Is this supposed to be curry? I ate the plastic-wrapped brownie and felt the ny-quil kicking back in.

  I slept-
     against the plastic window slammed shut against the unearthly light or dark above the clouds and the broad wing of the 777. Why do I always end up sitting on the wing?

  I dreamed-
     I held in my hand an object, but when I opened my clenched fist it had turned into garbage. Lint, scraps, and loose beads. I dreamed I saw the sharp fall between two skyscrapers, that turned into the green landscape scrolling under the plane. It could have been the rice fields of Japan, or the corn fields of California.

    I woke up-
       against the black of Selo’s H&M polo shirt. Groggy and unsure if he was really there, I pulled his narrow waist closer to mine. His body was cool and warm at the same time.

  I slept-
     to the sounds of the Great Lake Swimmers on my ipod, just covering the vacuum grrr of the plane. I wondered if they intended to make music that puts people to sleep.

  I dreamed-
     I was a car on a road. I was going fast, but there was nothing discernable up ahead.

  I woke up-
     in California.

  • 7:21 pm
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