Strange Familiarity

Everybody is looking at me this train ride, my chosen attire is to oppose attention; this credible observation is preparation without foresight. I am unsure what will become of my likeness to likeness. Jeans and a t-shirt is simple complexity; I dishevel myself purposely. The day leads into an afternoon of opposite intention; cause and effect reverses effect amounting to cause. I rely upon night as my savior; I am running from people, one I cannot escape. She approaches me in darkness while my mind is at rest.

"I desire her now."

"I do not."

Flashing bodies scream inside crawl spaces throughout my head; there is a woman calling out 'daddy' with a white towel perched upon her wrist. This is unfamiliar for me as I leave a gated complex without a key; I am physically exhausted with a death wish.

"No more..."

"My desire will not end."

"Yes it will; I do not desire what you desire."

"What do you desire?"

"A wolf..."

Truces descend from pitch black worlds with quarreling men; I am shaking my own hand.

"I feel like a criminal."

"What did you commit?"

"Nothing, that is why I feel this way."

"Please explain..."

"I do not commit to her because she is more than what you seek. I wake in dreams of figures inside sheets; whether or not this is real for me is for you to determine. I suppose I am here for your entertainment. I desire one woman; she is your wife. I am a spoiled desert..."

"The way I feel for my wife is not the same."

"The way I feel for your wife is beyond anything and any moment in between."

"Will you survive?"

"What....?"

"My disappearance..."

"No, I need you."

"So do I."

"I am lost if your wife is mine."

"How..."

"I am without a face; I gave my body away."

"Then you must find it again."

"Who will show me?"

"Those who are not influenced by drama or play..."

Katarzyna is step for step my feet as we enter a theatre; the performance is ready to begin. Neither of us dressed for any occasion except for walking the sidewalks we will miss; this is our conclusion as we fill empty seats. She leans over to kiss my cheek; I squirm from her lips.

"I didn't mean anything by it..."

"Yes you did..."

"What are you thinking?"

"I wish I was dead."

Romeo swallows poison while Juliet caresses his hands; she is visibly upset as I am yet continues to lament.

"Zoom..."

"What's up..."

"I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I know..."

"I will miss you terribly."

"I already do."

Uncle Moe is at his house reading about war and regret; I knock on his double sided oak door expecting not to be heard. I am Sorrow the Visitor; some people might prefer to be left alone.

"Jo I am glad to see you."

"Really...?"

"Yes, I want to speak with you about something."

"What is it?"

"Trouble is coming..."

"I know."

"I am afraid I won't see you again."

"I'm afraid too."

"I can only wish wherever you go they will love you as much as I do...even more..."

"I love you too; I never told anybody that before."

"You never told anybody you loved them?"

"No..."

"Why?"

"I never believed in it."

Love Never Ends is spray painted across walls inside the tunnel I ride to Queens. The woman's shelter is closing down; I am sadness outside of comprehension. Her director and organizer is a girl who sits on my bike handles; we pick up some old newspapers to start packing a few things.

"Looks like my job is done."

"Yeah..."

"I made you this shirt with hot pink!"

A name from a beached necklace is freestyle graffiti print; she is faith in angels heaven sent. I am denial of wilderness listening to snakes for guidance.

"I like it; what's the rest?"

"That's the part that's going to make you mad."

"How come..."

"You're not going to like your last name but you get to keep hers..."

"Whose..."

"The ink on that damned wall! Damn you really ain't that smart..."

"What name is that?"

"Lee..."

"I like that."

"I know...she's your husband."

"I'm the luckiest dummy on earth."

"Either that or you are one damn gifted motherfucker...."

"With what?"

"Not sure yet..."

The blue enigmatic affair is visible underneath a splotch of white paint; our artwork surrounds Egyptian influence for graphics, damn we are going to miss this place. Contracted demolition men do not understand why they are here, neighbors stand around curiously, Zoomy intervenes with a petition signed by a thousand people; hardhats told us they were going to knock down the storage shed and tell their ordering orders they tore down the whole thing. Nobody wants any trouble; everybody left instead.

"Excuse me Miss..."

"Yes..."

"Are you the woman in this picture...?"

Vanity Fair is a spread for his fingers; I wonder what prompted this question.

"Why do you ask?"

"Here is another..."

Vogue is a cover; I am nervous for some reason.

"Are there anymore you wish to show me?"

"You seem angry..."

"Maybe..."

"Then you are not ready."

Must of been a dream I guess...

"Hey lady!"

"Yeah?"

"Aaliyah isn't dead."

"A prayer in Arabic..."

"What does it mean?"

"For heighth of our ability we exalt ourselves as an altar for the best."

"How did you know that?"

"Allah used to be a man."

"Do you got a handkerchief? I been crying since she left."

"Where did she go?"

"Where the angels are..."

"Where is that?"

"Same place you fell out of..."

Another dream on my wish list.

"She sure could sing though..."

"Who?"

"Coney...who else?"

"Oh yeah, I forgot..."

"I hope you remember me."

"I will..."

"I hope you remember everything."

"What song did she sing?"

"It was about kissing..."

"Who?"

"You..."

"What?"

"That's what she sang!"

"I want her to kiss me."

"Well I'm going to beat her to it!"

Black lipstick is on my forehead; no longer a vanity, the mirror is a doctor for personal examination.

"I do not look well."

"You are talking to yourself..."

"Cordelia if you heard me then whom do I speak?"

"Your self..."

"Then you are my self."

"Will you miss me?"

"I always do."

"Will you remember me?"

"You are the child I dream."

"Then you will wonder if I am real."

"You will need to show yourself to me."

"Even then will you still think this is a dream?"

"You are much too beautiful for me to feel any other way."

"They say I look like you..."

"Your looks come from me but your beauty is from him."

"Does he have a name?"

"Will you give him one?"

"Romeo..."

"Why...?"

"That is how the story ends!"

Katarzyna and I stare into a bed of actors on a wooden platformed stage; we are unsure if these two are actually dead. Neither appears to be breathing and the audience is grave stillness. Time must be important to those who are watching as they begin to whisper, few speak out loud towards this projection; humans wrapped in purple silk is disbelief before our eyes.

"Is this a nightmare?"

"I don't know Kat."

"Do people really die?"

"Yes..."

"Do they come back?"

"I'm not sure..."

"How do we find out?"

"I guess we will know when we are dead."

Paramedics arrive with respirator machines and pumps to induce nausea.

"They drank the wrong tube! Shit was arsenic!"

"D.O.A!"

I am watching a figure half clothed against another in a curtained median; nobody will see them but my emotion is starving. A uniform, white with red crosses, is curious of necrophilia; undressed completely he is unavailable for the night shift. Madness follows me and naivete finds another boyfriend; must be this fool before me with his lips reaching out towards a strangely familiar woman.

"I desire your wife."

"I do not know the difference!"

"I do..."

"I do not want to fight!"

"I do..."

"You were the one that kissed the bride!"

"I didn't feel it..."

"You don't know what you are missing..."

"You do..."

"Yes."

"That is your sorrow..."

"Yours as well..."

"I will see you again."

"Maybe in the mirror."

"The doctor is not in..."

"Emergency calls for him."

"If they are similar to that paramedic, I will need salt and pepper."

"You are a crazy man!"

"I'm in love with one woman."

"That must be it."

"Can you keep me from doing things like this?"

"Yes."

"Do you know the difference between them?"

"From feeling not by appearance..."

"Shit..."

"What makes you curse?"

"I am cursed to know their appearance but not the feeling."

Bluish grey jackets envelope two bodies; I walk with Zyna around the spectacle of death.

"How and why did such a thing occur?"

"For us to see; it was a performance."

"That was real..."

"Maybe not..."

"What do you mean?"

"Where do they go now?"

"Somewhere out of our sight."

"Then we don't know..."

"They drank poison."

"That is part of the play..."

"They really drank poison."

"Did they really die?"

"Yes."

"How do you know?"

"They cannot breathe inside those things."

"Neither can we..."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said."

"Why did this happen?"

"For us to wonder why..."

"You are driving me crazy!"

"I am crazy; I know how and why too."

"How and why..."

"I became crazy when I met you."

"Why?"

"You made me realize I do not know how or why I do the things I do."

"Then we are back to not knowing what the hell is going on."

"Yes..."

"Can I stay with you tonight?"

"Yeah I will lay on the sofa."

"You can lay with me."

"I can?"

"You can and you may..."

Somebody's feet stuffs my nose into cheeks while a pair of hands knowingly steals the sheets; my boxer shorts are torn from jumping fences and my t-shirt is grass green from rolling turf. I spin the appendages to meet me; there must be a face.

"Oh it's you."

"Yeah..."

"You're dirty..."

"I forgot to do the laundry."

"What is that?"

Zoomy mysteriously appears; suddenly this is not a dream and my love for him is greater than this body I wear. He is quietly in our world outside of one we know will come to us while we run. I wish for him to always arise from what I do not understand to question our enemy, whoever they may be, we must not be curious or hesitant; our tracks are clear. I wish for his arrival to stay forever.

"That happens...we got to do the laundry now...most definitely."

"That comes out of you?"

I feel as she does; this mystifies our physical presence.

"I am not sure."

"Neither am I; we never see where it comes from or where it goes."

"What if that goes inside somebody?"

"How will it do that?"

"That's how it gets inside somebody."

"Somebody being who?"

"Sleeping next to you is similar to laying in a cemetery."

"What do you mean?"

"Grass and dirt..."

"Oh..."

An industrial cycling whirlpool causes a trance of worry; we are aware of time short circuiting for an outage.

"What is after us?"

"Who is after us?"

"Must be the same."

"Yes."

"We may never see each other again."

"Yes."

"Chess and Thaddeus are awfully silent."

"I cannot say I miss them."

"I know but when they are present we are with some foresight..."

"They will make themselves known somehow."

"I wish I did not know either of them."

"They would still be there."

"Is it horrible to wish they never existed?"

"You are not the only one; everyone in the neighborhood knows something is up."

"What about you?"

"If I wished they were dead then we would be with unwanted guests."

Our laugh drowns white cloth into watery dreams as we shed tears from trembles of intense giggles.

"Damn guys I am so sick of those two."

"We know."

"They are up to no good."

"Yeah."

"They keep telling us you guys are going to get us into trouble."

"They said that about all of you too."

"Something about Texas..."

"What?"

"Where the fuck is that?"

"Somewhere with big ugly cows."

"Big horny ones..."

"Do they make the milk commercial sound?"

"No."

"Damn then what about that place has got them yapping...?"

"They didn't say anything about it?"

"No we heard them talking."

"What else did they say?"

"They said you wouldn't leave without us."

"That's damn straight."

"Damn right."

"We feel the same way but we don't want to go there."

"Neither do we."

"I don't want to see no ugly fucking horny big cows."

"No shit."

"Especially since they don't make the milk commercial sound."

"Yeah it's not funny anymore."

"Say if we get trapped there, how are we going to find each other?"

"We'll say moo."

"What if I mistake you for cows?"

"Naw we should be skinny by then."