Tags
A Discourse of Selves, Abstract, Black and White, Drear, Experimental, Fractured Self, Introspection, Nature, Sea, Skull, Water, Winter
“Why are you here, talking to me now, after—so many years?”
“All the frolicking wore me down.”
“Frolicking? With women?”
“Yes.”
“I used to see you scuffling down the street. I’d dissolve out of sight so you wouldn’t—you were always alone.”
“I never stayed a whole night.”
“Did you see me?”
“In the periphery.”
“Did it—did you feel anything?”
(Silence)
“Onward, you must canter. The proud Gran Cavallo.”
“Rotting in the pasture.”
“I used to wish I could become you.”
(No reply)
“Do you know what I think?”
“Usually.”
“I think one day, a shard of my skull shall be found beneath a vending machine.”
“You’re never around anyone brutal enough.”
“You’re not brutal enough?”
(Silence)
“It will be a brightly coloured vending machine, surrounded by snow-laden trees. And everything’s glazed in a thick pelt of ice. The blazing slab will sit there, soundless and devoid of use—offering cold refreshments in a place where there are no summers. Underneath will be a little piece of my parietal bone—and a pale little springtail, no bigger than a centimeter—will find it. He’ll squiggle in delight and use the shard to cast shadows against the the throbbing lights overhead—and there he’ll remain, the while the winter away.”
“A winter that never ends for him.”
“Maybe it will. I can feel sympathy for strange things.”
“It’s been a long time since we’ve done this.”
“True. Sudden and natural—the Rorschach of a deer glistening on the morning pavement.”
“Did you think I would forget you?”
“Do people often remember a flash of amnion in the mud?”
“I did miss you.”
(No reply)
(Quietly) “You could never become me, you know—I’m not, I’m not whole.”
“I know. I know.”
“Did you ever—find that face you were looking for?”
“Do you see one now?”
“No.”
“Flakelets are scattering. Can you hear them?”
“Yes.”
“White beetles ricocheting against a black tarp. I must bed down. That clicking will put me to sleep.”
“I’m going, I’m going.”
“Did you go already?”
(Silence)
“Will you come back?”
(Silence)
“Good. I can ease back now, stare up into the entropy—see how long it takes for those holes to turn into denticled tears.”
A Day in the Brine 
Good to see you here again.
Oh thank you for drifting by Carlos. Good to see you again too. Regards- aj
What an interesting conversation. No rancor but clearly a lot of deep feelings. I loved this line, ““You could never become me, you know—I’m not, I’m not whole.””
“Who is?” I wanted to interject myself into the conversation. It seems like I’ve had that conversation before…
Har indeed, who is? A bunch of little flurries of selves in my case. Grins, it’d be wonderful to have a character named Marsha suddenly barrel up to slap these silly two and say as such. Chortles 🙃
Thanks for sharing this conversation. I found your site. Let’s follow our blogs. Anita
Greetings Anita, thank you for fluttering by and having a look. 🙂 I enjoy your blog very much. Cheers- autumn jade
Looks good here. I have a new blog . Be welcome
https://natuurmens.wordpress.com.