Friday, October 5, 2012

the thing

There’s something inside of me I can’t identify and it needs to come out.  It feels like darkness, like slept-in blankets and blurry dreams, or dirty laundry.  I get up and walk over to my piano, stare at the keys as if they can reveal to me this hidden thing, but nothing comes.

I turn and grab a single, wrapped piece of gum from the plastic bag on my desk.  I love the smell and taste of pink Dubble Bubble gum but it loses its flavor after about thirty seconds.  It’s like chewing on cardboard, so I take it out of my mouth and begin to play.

I stretch it and wrap it around my finger.  I twist and pull until it’s like an umbilical cord, then I squish it and stretch it out so it’s like a thin fragile membrane.  I squish it again and then pull it out long until it breaks.

Yes, I think to myself.  I can write about gum.  So I roll it into a ball and stick it beside my tea mug, and I type.  When I look at the clock I see it’s almost one in the morning, that I’ve been sitting here for three hours and only written four paragraphs.

That’s disappointing, and the thing I can’t identify remains within.

No comments:

There was an error in this gadget