Echoes of a Young Gunshot (Part 1)

"Do you think of me like I dream of you?" - The Breeders


Do you see me? Press your hand against the glass and feel me, inhale cold monitor light. If you write enough, words are all you are. The flow begins in endless places and ends in one, join the orgy of ideas and taste the river. Does it taste like freedom? Like sex? Mushrooms? Cotton candy? Depends upon how deep the water is.




Sleep came in slow on an erotic gondola of wine and nitrous oxide. Sleep departed with the telephone's tinny mating call. I picked up the receiver in a groggy haze of irritation.

"This had better be good."

"Hello John, its Lynn. Do you miss me?" said the receiver.

"The only Lynn I know shot herself years ago." I said.

"You really don't think that I would let that happen, do you? We never got together like I wanted."

Another awakening to the sickly scent of coconut suntan oil. A white figure stood at the foot of the iron bed with wearing only Lynn's face and a pair of handcuffs on one wrist. Lynn wore those for jewelry a lot in life, but I never asked why. Handy for an S&M quickie.

"Hey Ssssweetie, how are you?" S's buzzing like a thousand insect wings.

"Not bad. What brings you to the land of the restless living?"

"I have come to help you. Your spirit is trapped in a loop between worlds, you are living repeats, on the brink of breaking free then starting over. You know that De Ja Vu vibe, knowing you have done things before, have visited places before, have met the people you encounter? You get that because you have. You have eaten bullets, dropped from buildings, grown old and died young, built empires and destroyed them, saved lives and taken them, made it big and washed up, started the same way and pushed in a billion directions all in the struggle to break free. You are running against the walls of a circle, wearing down, yours is a soul going mad." she said.

"Bummer."

"There is a way out. You will be visited by 9 spirits. They will show you the door. Watch for them in the sound of neon space, in corner glances of terrors in the animal streets, in quick movement on the edge of reason. I believe in you. Everything will turn out alright, you'll see. Now I must be on my way. Give me a hug" she said.

We embraced; I went limp against her thigh when I saw brown cicadas oozing over the wet bald hole in the back of her head. Prickly legs ran down my back, clamoring against earlobes.

"Now, hold still." she said backing away. She pressed a pistol to my lips and fired.

Today is pleasant blue and shifty like a god's indecision. Re-runs of law and order, same wars on the news, same microwave food, same questions and answers, same salty flesh, same bread crumbs on the floor. However, I am content, and feel genuinely good. The open air brims with expectation. You know that feeling like you are dancing with the wind, when the first raindrops hit your shoulders as light waves through cracks in the sky? It's kind of like that.