I walked over to the server, standing by the lobster tank.
“What is on hold?”
“Red white and blue!!”
The lobsters all turn toward me in unison.
I think they are bored, so I circle around and look for a ball.
I want to play fetch, but I catch with fish balls.
In protest, I push the server over and take his pen.
I suppose that even they can get hungry!
I must triangulate the sounds of forks on plates,
to seek the proxy slice of pie. Something sticking to my eye.
Who ever thought of love being so cruel, pie?
Racist, bearded tennis balls fill the room.
Exerting such rage,
lacking color and scope.
I force him to move back to my table. He transports a fizzy bottle of campaign with humane hands.
I don’t think he knows how to swim, but cares do not bother his little head.
The lobsters attack him, for ruining their home.
I grab the surfboard, nearest my face. I ask the gods of Tiki-Tiki-Tu-Tu to present the specials in a harmony of sustenance. Hunger is now serving our table a feast of absence. The table is reserved for the next party and we are in a hurry, especially now with the cumming plague,
lobster tidal wave.
There is another reservation for my ego, but we no longer call him Dune.
Also, I cannot see the menu without meat-seeking eyes, and methane blankets… Sometimes I want to try flesh to teath, to anoose.
Can we take the train? I haven’t seen the countryside in so many years. I hate it when pollution stops our journey. I hate it when we can’t go to the beach…
Do you remember Beach Blanket Bingo? We used to love that movie when you were a child?
My Spanish is not so good any more and you only speak in English, so let’s muddle in the mud, and embrace the comfort of these blissful little journeys.
I want to take the train to the countryside. I want to feel the grass on my feet!!
I let myself make the artistic decision to feel my own love… High, on a mountain of lust and feverdreams.
What is on the train? Where are we going? - “I have no insight, but please enjoy the flight.”
I wake up sweating... from this dream. I cannot write. I cannot spell. This journey into words is twisting my brain and making it whole again… I cannot speak outside the hem of these few words,
I choke on thoughts too complex to solidify in this human head.
And then my journey, the story of a long chloro-plastic ideological daydream, feeding delusion in the only reality I give to you… Words = Illusions = Love.
The presence of my mind cannot cause chaos to subside.