10.1.5 the song

I wander in the mall
Lost in occult architecture
Where each floor, each escalator
Leads me deeper into a nest of stores
Each annex becomes larger
There is no way out.

A Japanese man touches my shoulder
His hair is straight and long, face chiseled
He asks me, “where do you bring a girl for date?”
I see his young daughter with him, five years old.
I tell him, “botanic gardens, or that Island…”

I wonder if he will bring her there.

His little girl is now a white puppy.
Wandering behind a cashiers counter of a pop up store.
Her father turns into a pink furred dog, the same size and age as his child.
They vanish, as they are no longer human species.

I find myself in an amphitheater.

All is dark, and it’s hard to see the faces of
the seated crowd. They are silent and anxious.

My once dead computer is on stage.
Each key I press plays a channel of music
The looped sound of coins dropping
A deep drone

I forget the words of my tome.

The sounds extend time, removes it from context, my presence on stage goes on without time

I see nothing on the screen.
No frame of reference or name of track
The sound plays, and I sing in a falsetto voice

“Sometimes I remember….”

The tempo is slow, dragged out, erasing this weight in my soul, lifting it out of darkness.

“Sometimes I am closer to the stars…”

An unnaturally tall woman comes to the edge of the stage
She is handing me a black piece of thick paper.
Attached to it is half an egg, skin silver
In silver ink, instructions.
I think of a stargazer I was once close to
I sing the song also for her.
I consume the silver egg
I Leave the stage, walking past a
a fire engine truck made of cardboard.

A chubby clown emerges from the top. Yellow light in its face.

He is a sad, silent mime with a mystical flower in his hat.
Doors of the truck open, there are wild red faces, searching for something untouchable .

A complex video plays on the screen as backdrop.
It is light and flicker haunting, abstract and figureless…

The song remains with me.

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