I challenge my dream: “Show me the Equator. I’ve never
see the Equator.”And I’m there, registering at a hotel
on some tropical island in the middle of the ocean. I
look around expecting the exotic but everything looks
depressingly ordinary, as if this were some grubby
convenience store in Canarsie. “Show me things I’ve
never seen”, I command my dream. I’m imagining
succulent equatorial flowers, blossoms billowing like
parachutes, and juicy fuchsia-hued fruits big
as boulders.
The scene changes, but instead of embroidered nature,
I find myself in the hotel’s unremarkable cocktail
lounge. Some guests have dressed formally. Others are
naked. We’re just a bunch of people sipping our drinks,
probably waiting for dinner. We attempt conversation,
but it goes nowhere. “This is nothing!” I scold my
dream. “Show me the horrors, the spectacular horrors
of the Equator!” I’m imagining spiders towering like
skyscrapers on stick legs, and malevolent vampire
insects numerous and unremitting.
Nothing outwardly changes, although, one by one,
I begin to recognize my fellow guests. In fact, I
realize that I know every one of them and I wouldn’t
I voluntarily spend in their company! I notice,
too, that every one now is looking around the room and
recognizing everyone else. From their gloom I surmise
that every body has discovered universal, mutual heated.
Can it be that, compelled by the rules of civility,we
must spend our short, once in a life-time equatorial
vacations in this Sartrean hellhole in intimate contact
with those who revolt us?
But then it dawns on me: “Thank you,” I tell my dream.
“For this true horror of Equator!”
about Sandy McIntosh
from FORTY-NINE GUARANTEED WAYS TO ESCAPE DEATH
about Sandy McIntosh
from FORTY-NINE GUARANTEED WAYS TO ESCAPE DEATH
banana trees / minds-eye
にほんブログ村
