another dream, another time, another place

being next in line, I walked to the “disposition” desk where

official papers were being stamped, and was summarily put in charge of gravity.

with my sarcasm in full bloom I asked: “inside my house, or citywide”?

ignored, I was handed a pamphlet and required to stand beside the famous

“Backwards Man” of yesteryear illusionism.

(there's an intriguing photograph of the "backwards man"

taken by Diane Arbus in NYC in 1961, if you'd like to take a look.)

instinctively speaking to the back of his head, I asked a few questions

but he had nothing to say to me, and he simply continued to drift

the way a dead fish drifts with the current, a rudderless, vulgar momentum

without a clearly defined destination.

–– yonder, I found a solitary bench in a solitary park and sat down

to read my pamphlet: “Being In Charge Of Gravity For Beginners”, but

I abandoned the pamphlet leaving it unopened and unread with only the bench

to keep it company. I didn’t want to be in charge of gravity.

––back at the desk for “disposition” I demanded another assignment,

one closer to "Reed's Road" beach where in 1952 the older, intriguing

Gina DeCorpo adjusted the top of her one-piece running the strap

over the slow, roll of her sun-drenched shoulder with a mesmerizing 

"do you like me?" wink in the process.

that was it. my first boner, or at least the first I remember as a functioning unit. 

but at the desk for "disposition" a new official document was stamped

and heatedly handed to me which read:

“don’t make this situation more difficult for yourself. you’re in charge of gravity”.