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Open Poetry #40
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Naked Thoughts?
| Open Poetry #40 |
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Naked Thoughts? |
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Jaime Fradera Senior Member
since 2000-11-25
Posts 843Where no tyranny is tolerable |
It is afternoon. I stand on the street in the sunshine. The bus pulls up. I am nude. There is no Time. I scamper aboard, run quickly to the back.. I overhear people yelling,: ... the driver shouting: SIR! ... SIR! ... they are going to call the police ... I scurry into a corner where I can hide, where I am invisible, where they can never find me to gain time. The offending passenger apparently got off. The tumult subsides; the bus gets underway. I fumble clumsily with underwear, with pants, with shirt, with socks, shoes. I don't know where this bus is going. I don't even know where I am going ... I wait till the bus comes to some stop. I scamper from my hiding place run quickly to the front, pay the fair out the door, to mingle with the others. No one even recognizes me because I am no longer nude. I leave. The next one will be coming in ten minutes. I will ask him what bus is this? which one must I transfer to in order to get home? I know that they will help me to get home. It is morning. I wake from a nap and find what appear to be groceries all over the bed. Strange, some cool, some frozen packages What could these be? ... granola bars? of .. what? Then Joyce explains: A food delivery was attempted yesterday. She told them how I can not hear or see. That I may not even have been home that day. But she told them, helped them to effect delivery. She says it will be Wednesdays now. That every Wednesday, starting, April, they will come, and expect them at the door. So I can quickly put away the stuff they bring me, So I can get it in the fridge before it spoils. It is Night. It seems like there are strange sounds, they might be voices from the corner, through a crack, maybe a hole along the baseboard. I strain to hear, to make out the ghostly voices. I try to stuff my little mike into the opening. Is it women, men? Are they talking about women's health? they were all so strange to me. But it was probably somebody's television. They must have it turned up all the way, It must be really loud for me to hear it through this keyhole. It did sound like some network talking heads program. It is the next night. I hear the same voices once again, and this time more clearly, even more mysterious ... I would have to find out just what television show this was. But I would have to do it carefully, covertly. After all, it was somebody else's place. The less they ever knew of me, the better. I open the door just slightly, just enough to stick the little microphone outside. I try to close the door but it won't close because the wire is sticking through outside. She hears it, sees a motion in the hallway. I can indulge my interest secretly no more. Apparently it wasn't any television ... Sir ... Did I need something? Was I looking for someone? Was I looking for the little object I just dropped on to the floor? And then I had to spill out all of it. that I am deaf, and use this little mike to hear. Could she hold it? Did she have to press a button? No? just talk into it like this? How cool! Her hypnotic fascination ... it was just a microphone ... I knew I would never get away from her ... She wouldn't put it down. She wouldn't even give it back to me, she just couldn't. So could I really hear her through this little thing! Didn't I already tell her that? ... So I was listening to her through the crack along the baseboard? Well, they did this talk thing every night. Did I want to talk with her? It's okay. She would show them the little microphone, tell them how I could not see or hear, how it was really easy ... Tonight the talk was all about love, its glory, and its pain, and everything. Did I want to come with her? Did I feel like in the mood for making love? Did I want to come with her and d And she helped them to effect the delivery |
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Midnitesun
since 2001-05-18
Posts 28647Gaia |
grinning here don't lose that microphone, amigo food deliveries, hmmm, no more meandering walks to Safeway? |
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