i'm not referring to the instantly accessible and vacuous land of social networking,or even emailing or faxing. because faxes are sheets of paper sailing quickly and invisibly through the atmosphere, they are very hard to intercept.
nor am i referring to someone eavesdropping on a phone call or rooting through my mailbox to tear open a secret letter with glee. no sir...
i'm talking about the scroll.
i keep a scroll in a glass tube duct taped to the underside of my bed. glued to the outside of the scroll are several seagull feathers and the skeleton of a minnow for a "message in a bottle" kind of effect- it looks great, and every time i stick my head under there to look i feel like christopher columbus without the hat.
the ship navigates the stormy waters of the subconscious
what is contained in the bottle?
the scroll of my life:
the story of how i grew.
the bottle which popped from my lips as warm, squirming baby.
the screaming in my brother's face at age seven.
_____'s dad's stolen "green death" cigarettes at tweleve. the black woods where we went at night, stupidly, to smoke them.
the virginity that was taken in an almost holy manner at sixteen- the sweat, the candles, the absurdity.
the long road trip at twenty-one. two weeks in the car, never once behind the wheel!
the breakup at twenty-six that goes on and on.
the rain tonight as i walked in my new shoes downtown, umbrella pointing to the sky.
retrospect written in code on the scroll in the glass case of my life under the bed.
these stories have not been written for me, they have been written for you to hear. evaluate, compare and contrast.
ask me anything- i want to tell.
and i want to hear, too.
where do you keep your bottle?
what is contained in the bottle?
the scroll of my life:
the story of how i grew.
the bottle which popped from my lips as warm, squirming baby.
the screaming in my brother's face at age seven.
_____'s dad's stolen "green death" cigarettes at tweleve. the black woods where we went at night, stupidly, to smoke them.
the virginity that was taken in an almost holy manner at sixteen- the sweat, the candles, the absurdity.
the long road trip at twenty-one. two weeks in the car, never once behind the wheel!
the breakup at twenty-six that goes on and on.
the rain tonight as i walked in my new shoes downtown, umbrella pointing to the sky.
retrospect written in code on the scroll in the glass case of my life under the bed.
these stories have not been written for me, they have been written for you to hear. evaluate, compare and contrast.
ask me anything- i want to tell.
and i want to hear, too.
where do you keep your bottle?
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