PM 1311022
Sometimes it hurts to read but the
words must somehow press their way
out of the book and into my brain,
it doesn't hurt but I can't resist the call
and I can't resist the feeling I get to
press on and find out what has been
presented to me. I feel and hear the
rattling in my brain as I need to know
what is going to happen on the next page,
skipping forward in impatience only to have
to go back when I realize I've missed
something important.
Visions of The Pink Panther drowning in
a pink asbestos pool are replaced
by a couple dead arabs on the beach and
I realize I have gone too far and need
to retrace my steps, get the hell out of
Algeria and move on to safer habitats
in the world, moving forward but not
averse to hiding in the shadows as long
as it might take.
Oh, how mighty I am and I easily
defeat all the snakes and monsters in my mind
only to be frightened by a small dog
as I walk to the store to buy a package
of cigarettes. Why be afraid of a
small dog when lung cancer should be
weighing on my brain in a much
more profound way.
The barriers are so high and so many
survivors are keen to tell their stories
about how they leapt over them while I am
most concerned about finding the secret
door to sneak through when nobody is watching.
But the East German guards are always
there at the top of the wall,
waiting this time to shoot people trying to sneak
under while helping others who are braving the
elements and trying to get over the top.
I will never be one of those survivors, I don't
have it in me and if I did, I would only try
harder to get rid of it.
I cower behind the chairs in the cafe across
the street and wonder when it will finally be
my turn to shoulder all the responsibility the
world has to offer. How can one mature in a
world that has so obviously crowned youth
as the ultimate victor and ageless wonders
land in the Guiness Book of World Records
still starving to death and wondering how to
spend their welfare cheques.
MCC
