Of Fidelity, Magic Mirrors, and Memories
Some day soon I hope to lie awake with the moon and share in pillow talk of opal dreams.
At present I trundle along, a troglodyte with coarse feet, to the magic mirror up yonder. You are encased in a screen, my insides scream, “I wish I was there.”
Collapse, aghast, an agate tumbles out of my shoe, poured out after a long days’ walk because sometimes it’s better to just keep moving and not think of the little uncomfortable thought.
Did you know that Trans-Atlantic travel used to take two months to traverse?
Today information flutters at the speed of light but my brain and my heart can only process so much, so quickly. No matter how long I stare at the sun the after image fades.
In the dim glow, bejeweled eyes glimmer but I can’t recall the exact color or hue of your looking glass. The steady hand that traced a hundred times the curves of the earth falter when the muscle and the memory no longer comport; because touch is the first thing to go and revision is the way of the brain. Despite talmudic efforts of transcription.
From the mountains, the runes, a remedy. The hope is to align the stars next to a river. In their reflections eidetic images reassure each other that they do exist.
AARON GERRY tries not to take himself too seriously, despite what the content may suggest. He enjoys pen and paper, perambulating, and donuts. Many donuts. Oh and writing. Speaking of which, his work can be found in journals and publications such as Chronogram, Lit Up, P.S. I Love You, The Creative Cafe, The Junction, and others. If you like this piece please do 👏clap👏 along!
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