52/228-229: Perchance to Dream

[rejectomorph]

I can't believe I've gotten through another day. Two more, in fact, since I was last here. And I got a task I needed to do done. That leaves only a few hundred essential tasks undone. It probably isn't worthwhile to worry that I'll never get around to most. At the moment I don't remember if I ate dinner or not. I don't feel hungry, but that's not a reliable indicator. There is some indigestion, but that's not a reliable indicator either. Recently, water has sometimes been enough to trigger indigestion.

But it is now way later than I'd thought, and my brain way blanker. Oh, wait. I did eat dinner. I microwaved a frozen lasagna. It was tasty, but it's no surprise that I've got indigestion. Cooked tomato will do that to me. And a meal will make me tired, which explains why I'm nodding off. When I go to sleep I might dream of chaos. I might dream of lying awake hour after incomprehensible hour.




Sunday Verse

Cameo Appearance

by Charles Simic


I had a small, nonspeaking part
In a bloody epic. I was one of the
Bombed and fleeing humanity.
In the distance the great leader
Crowed like a rooster from a balcony,
Or was it a great actor
Impersonating the great leader?

That's me there, I said to the kiddies.
I'm squeezed between the man
With the two bandaged hands raised
And the old woman with her mouth open
As if she were showing us a tooth

That hurts badly. The hundred times
I rewound the tape, not once
Could they catch sight of me
In that huge gray crowd
That was like any other gray crowd.

Trot off to bed, I said finally.
I know I was there. One take
Is all they had time for.
We ran, and the planes grazed our hair
And then they were no more
As we stood dazed in the burning city,
But, of course, they didn't film that.