hi everyone
I know you're talking to to my back
thank you for coming today, it means a lot...
it can be hard to get yourself out of bed to go listen to
some new music, so...
I provided the beds for you!
What?
is a dream?
really....
...(everyone talking)...
I couldn't have been more than five
it's nighttime
our house is two stories and the bedrooms
were all on the second floor
I move out of my bed. Slowly.
I am seeing through my own eyes
everything seems so much larger and taller
and wider and denser
our house isn't a house, it's a world
and I make my way out of the room
movement is not all in one sway
sways have been cut and pasted like film
I touch the cold wooden and smooth handrail
"How exciting! I shoudln't be doing this."
though I don't think anybody explicity
ever told me to
"I want to find you." I thought
And I move.
walking down the stairs like making one's way
sinking through mud
and this is the first part, a monotony
of walking down these rather wide wooden stairs
that are not very well kept
Dusty. Nicked.
Cold.
and square
I go through the motions of both wake
and sleep
I step off the last platform
our floors are much like our stairs
wooden, cold, diagnosed with
splinters
"I want to meet you." I thought
"I really want to meet you..."
so I searched the house, my world
"Talk to me!" I thought
I found something, this was something
that I never had the chance to meet, my own
house and you were at such a distance
it seemed that others had access to you
but I never did
What do you do? What do you say?
Why are we not acquainted? and I
go up to you and place my hand on your flat face
You, the Washing Machine
looked down at me and smiled
You
the Washing Machine picked me up,
and sat me down on your lid, and you smiled at me
and though you said nothing, introduced me to,
the Dryer
on and off, I had this dream in some
incarnation or another, I would
travel down the stairs and wonder at the machines that I
never actually touched
I would spend time with them in curiosity
and though no questions were answered, something of another sort
was fulfilled from this mundane object. And
yet, deity
one night, after traveling down the stairs
I took a left instead of a right
I made my way into the dining room
Yes,
Yes!
there were wooden floors, yes
but these were nicely polished, somewhat rounder
somewhat smoother, there's a second
entrance to our house-once-triplex-now-single-house
and I want to try this place
the time before the machines had not smiled at me
up against the second door I see two balloons
one red, one green
the red balloon was abnormally large, and impossibly
rectangular
the red balloon looked down at me and smiled
the red balloon looked over at the green balloon as if
to introduce us
the green balloon was circular, but impossibly two-dimensional, and
rather medium
–not in a "just right" sort of way, but in a
"middle of the road" sort of way
and yet, this time
I did not feel any semblance to the machines
in fact,
it was more akin to terror
and this time I run back
I pass the foot of the stairs and turn right
I want to go back to the machines
no! now they are gone.
I sit where they used to be, as I wheep
for some dreams, when I walk down the stairs
I peek into the dining room where the balloons are
too afraid to venture further
I go back to where the machines used to lay
and I sit there hugging my knees, I could stay
in my bed, but something compels me
always to walk down
years have passed.
I approach the stairs
I am tired
my eyes feel sensitive and I want to rub them
but I don't have the energy to bring my arms up to my eyes
I reach the edge and I can see down the stairs
there is a glowing ball of light
tonight the stairs feel stretched and the mouth
of its flow is far far away
I cannot tell what the glow is
walking down the stairs I find the glowing ball of light
at the turn of the stair to be quite unnerving
I hug the railing, trying my best to avoid it
to what avail?
shouldn't I have just avoided the stairs all together?
I peek into the machine room
Still gone.
I peek into the dining room
the balloons look at me and smile, "Leave!
Please go!" I plead, and their smiles
widen and they float into the ceiling
I run up the stairs
I pass the glowing white ball that I feel follows me
with its gaze, but I am unfazed
with the corner of the wall I scratch my back
I utter the suppositious phrase
and spit on the ground as though
it would keep all the balloons away
I spend the next nights with the glowing ball of light
I named it Gruise
I tried to talk to it, but it would never respond
since Gruise was located on the stair itself
I never reached the foot of the stairs
the forced experience of language
exhausted me
and our communication was of the mutual company, it would hardly
glance at me
and its strangeness would grow to be something I appreciated
with boughs of comfort
Gruise would introduce me to the darkness around me
It did not have a face.
And I would walk into a naturally lit room.
Of brilliant light and glow of warm and
loved surroundings.
And he,
there, standing with his hands in his coat's
pockets, his hair blowing in the light
–a sort of glistening movement,
yet, similarly
a blinding halo of pure
white and silk snow,
would tilt his head and smile
the most heartwarming and welcoming of smiles.
And yet!
Because of the risk of stirring about the calming bliss.
I would, until the first spoken words, surprise
the undermining need to travel closer
and take him into my arms.
And then,
I would recall walking through the storm
with him along my side.
And in such,
that was the brightest rain I had been through,
with the lightest
and most uplifting of feelings.
Such it was, and endured within me:
that I could never be weighed down by the clouds,
that instead,
I would learn
of their friendship.
P.S.
Who are you, teacher of the rain's friendship?
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