In these days, community
gave me hope
spoke of memory with love
promised
asserted my salvation.
The graves will open
and children will dance, again.
The City is but one construction.
my dead eyes opened
to sterile white
and a soothing green
four walls
a bed
and beeping pulsing machines…
am I naked?
Through hollow echoing
and muffled eardrum thump
"… excuse me, ma'am?
Ma'am? Doctor, I think
he's coming to."
"Well, let's check in on him."
Footsteps
through the hallway,
stopping,
the door opens
"Hello, friend."
fluorescent squinted vision
sensitivity
focus
speak
"It's okay. You've been
in a coma for the last three days."
but I haven't slept in years…
"Your strength will return. Here,
let's get you some solid food, shall we?"
Food? Where does it come from?
"We have an excellent
kitchen staff."
Where am I?
"Safe."
I saw a bright reflection; what is it?
"You must mean the mirrors
in the collection field."
Is that where I am?
"You were found
by one of our herders.
You're lucky—
we weren't sure you could be saved."
Saved?
"Where are you from?"
Amrika.
"How did you make it out?"
i don't know…
"How did you get out here?"
i don't know—
"Who else was with you?"
no one.
I relayed to her my exodus
and wandering.
I told her I was a failed number
an unsolvable variable—
my existence left me
one
single
option
Escape.
"Your brain scans show
extreme trauma."
brain scans and trauma?
What do you mean?
flashes
of terrible violence
in sterile white rooms
and no windows
—overcome laziness—
splintered thoughts
wasn't it all a dream?
"We've seen other cases of
this.
Psychological torture."
Torture?
flashes of disjointed
neural firiing
lightttning storm
spotted vision
collapse and
convulse
and finally, confusion…
"Can you remember
your name?"
Struggle
and gargled tension,
the spasms passed.
"Relax."
deer-caught peace
of brilliant light—
My brain hurts.
"Yes, I know. We will help you."
help—
finally, relief.
mental flashes
of hazed over
fog
soft focused pictures
What has happened to me?
"That is what we intend
to find out;
if you're willing to work
with us."
plural—‘we'
who else does she mean?
"Right now…"
‘right now,' meaning ‘wait'
"we'll start by holding you…"
against my will?
no…
will takes too much energy
"for observation. We're going to
run some tests. These
will help us evaluate
your situation."
Apparently, my situation was dire
not by what she said
but between her words
behind the smile
a glimmer of hope lost
in her eyes
Is it still storming outside?
"Yes, though it should clear by week's end."
She smiled and wished me a good night
as dinner was brought in
—no television glare or lazy slouch
and the smell was free of
the radium stench.
my mouth began salivating
Wait
she stopped
half-stride out of the door
like my tip-of-the-tongue
struggle to find
damn this brain clouded aphasia
Again, she smiled.
"I'll be back in the morning."
* * *
Pitch black panic—
Where am I?
eyes glazed
slow hollow blue lit recognition…
a hospital room.
push button for potion
iv drip
drip
relief…
release
sunlight caress
sleep fallen
fresh eyes
the sun filtering through
the white curtains
softened
the corners
of the room
radiated in
safety and
smothering
silence,
my cocoon.
"Good morning."
a questionable assessment
by the doctor
Is it still raining?
"Yes."
do they know how
tired I am
of clockwork
sunrises?
perhaps?
am i truly safe here?
"You used nearly 30mL.
Did you have trouble sleeping last night?"
I've never really enjoyed hospital stays.
"Well, with what we've taken so far,
a few more tests today
and maybe
we can find other accommodations.
I'll speak with my father."
She smiled and the thought
suddenly struck me…
She's old enough to
as old as
brain fuzz
goddamn
did I have a family?
face remembered
now dissipating haze
gibberish inquiries
"Are you all right?"
clarified vision
and facial recognition
Oh. Yes. Sorry…
she smiled
"I'll ask someone from physical therapy
to help you outside for breakfast. Fresh air
will do you some good."
Thank you.
She smiled and turned towards the door
Wait. Before you go…
I asked her name
and as she spoke
a vibrating
chill ran through my being
beginning at her lips
pulsing
air pressure
repercussion to my
ears
caressed
hair on end
as her lips breathed
across my neck
below my ear lobe
flesh
and static charge—
god, that sounded like a prayer…
The outdoors smelled heavy
of rain's perfume
and sanctuary.
I enjoyed my breakfast
as my body
felt
just that much
lighter
yet
there was the throbbing in my chest
a stomach shaking
like bicycle remembering…
the presence of
some
thing namelessly familiar
something, perhaps, that…
The Hospital sat on the opposite
end of the main street
from their place of governance—
I can't recall having ever seen in Amrika
the…
central office?
Through this street, shop windows
hung open
flooding the air with smells
of livestock, baked goods, linens, and
carved furniture, produced and
sold by smiling faces
sounds of conversation and money exchanges
a chest empty ache.
"I'm glad you decided to stay with me."
an interesting way to put it.
Thank you, for your hospitality.
I don't know where else
I could have gone.
"I can't tell you how excited I am
to introduce you to my father."
Can you tell me what happened to me?
"Well, from your personal accounts
and our observations,
it appears that you were tortured."
looking down at my hands…
and what of dreams?
I mean the acts themselves.
"I can only venture guesses,
but the brain pulses with various
frequencies
play the right note and you
have dissonance…"
my own personal brain cloud distortion
"But given the right environment,
we've found the mind to be quite
resilient…"
are memories physical imprints?
what good are they for survival?
hmmm…how much physical…damage?
"Very little. In fact, with the right diet
most of it should heal quickly."
No more microwaves…
"That's one way to put it."
Are there microwaves here?
"No, eating is vital. Why should you feel
the need to rush its preparation?"
Convenience, I guess.
How do you know about them?
"We make it a point to know about
places beyond our border."
I'm sure there was a time when the city
was less suffocating.
"Perhaps, but
it has always been an
oppressive ruler, a herding ground of
consumers—"
With our hierarchy and
bottom-feeders,
hired guns and butchers,
so to speak;
though I walked through your market, today,
and saw your civil guards.
Are you so righteous
that your borders are open to
conquest?
"That's not exactly how international affairs
are handled;
the old geopolitics has lost out…but no,
our borders are protected from invasion."
What was it you said your father did, again?
she smiled,
"Well, he's an architect,
and serves as a senator ."
Family business?
Beautiful and without modesty,
"Yes, that is my ambition;
but save this conversation for dinner;
I was thinking about laying spread
around you…"
I lost what she said after that:
but something about her lips when
she smiled
their proportions
and the curve they made,
full and subtly puckered,
I was compelled to be quiet
and walk beside her.
We continued on in electric buzz silence,
finally reaching where her father stood.
He introduced himself as "Paolo,"
and we exchanged formalities
in familiar
body posturing
and intonations—
he bear hugged me.
In spite of the discomfort with this
show of affection,
I felt welcome.
Father and daughter
embraced.
Then we made our way along a path
leading up to the house
bordered by a row of pear trees
in bloom
and apple trees
bisecting two concentric
hedged and
stone walled perimeters
ideally proportioned
around stretches
of raked sand patterns
and sporadic scattering
of rocks and cacti
As if drawn in by the
balance
and harmony
we passed through a free standing
arch
into a short
open space
then
to the front door
where I was greeted
by a sizable dark brown dog,
who barked twice as threat,
not menacingly, but with the
dignified force of a guardian
—this was his to protect.
"Aesop, sit. This is our guest. Behave."
Grudgingly he huffed and sat,
then began wagging his tail
as Paolo crossed the threshold
scratching him on the top of the head.
Pets were banned from Amrika.
Various departments agreed that
they were an unnecessary burden,
a resource drain that gave no return,
worse than worthless
"Who can put a price on companionship?
Who can calculate the profits?"
Their point exactly.
Stepping in, Aesop moved
towards me
shoved his nose first between my legs,
huffed again
then nudged my hand
until it rested on his head
so I scratched him and
was drawn in further
embraced by the
domed volume
of a light-filled and warm
home.
And yet, a twinge of nostalgia arose,
a part of me missed my old box
digits and potions
voodoo
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