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I Shut My Eyes And The World Drops Dead
A mad girl’s love song
Seems to me memory is a trickster. Jester in a polka dot hat with pompoms and long, slender fingers slicing paper thin layers of a life, folding them into origami notes tucked in a back pocket. And on some random day with a wave of a slender hand, magically pulling them out as puzzle pieces. Set each moment by another, build a picture you didn’t even see coming.
Like this one.
Me. Standing by a chain link fence, bundled in parka and boots, scarf and mittens. Leg warmers to keep snow out of my boots. Breath visible as I stand staring at a padlock that was never there before. Not last time or the time before. And I’m wondering. Who locks up nature, and why?
And I know. I could turn around. Come back another day.
But the chain looks loose, is what I’m thinking.
Knowing no one is here. Knowing there’s no cell reception here. Knowing there’s no help coming should the worst happen or should anything happen that might lead one human body to needing the presence of another.
I put a mittened hand on each gate. Push them apart. Slip through.
It’s bright and white and almost blinding.