A DAY IN THE LIFE OF AN APPLE
Nice Shot, ha-ha. Nice shot, ha-ha. What was that? Attack? Duck? Hands
over our mouths, terror bleeds into our eyes. Nice shots still? Time
stands still. We stare; all is quiet. All is well somehow. Simple chitchat
isn't listened to, we say nothing. *Strike #3; you-are-out! I'm going
The next step here is· The next step should be· Damn my
human faculty fails me. I am not weak, damn it. I can do this; I can
do it on my own. Breathe.Everything I remember or can fathom explodes.
I am completely disoriented. I want my typical outlet-wait: there is
nothing typical about this. NO! Not one thing here is typical. Cannot
connect the dots. My dots are somewhere over there, over me, over you.
I look at you, but it doesn't help. Who will make it home today? You're
not my enemy? You're my boss-usually. I'm angry with you for being weaker
than yesterday. You're crawling for shelter. We are so nearby, too nearby.
You weak-ling, human! You were human too. Today you're a micromanager;
I must survive alone.
"There are no fathers, no brothers,
no friends" we're on our own.
Unto the streets I go, I'm leaving you behind. You don't really care
about me; we just share a common horror of death. Otherwise, I you mother
me,not. I would like to have been closer to my mother that day, to have
Ah, normally you don't care.
Splintered particles of silver-gray permeate the air today, in the sunshine.
There is beauty to be found anywhere at any time. On hold-standstill
hiding in my apartment on Avenue A.
I want my mommy. Nothing feels warm. My feet are numb and I am blinded
by jubilant crowds on the TV! screen.
" Dancing in Palestine!?" No,
think. Why would the news show this to us? Is it to distill primal thirsty
revenge?I am going to hate. I hate too much already;
my head is a clogged drain. God. Hi there, it's me Margaret·
"Where is god in all of this?" Is this my fault? The
almighty hand needs to change. I'll change. You see it's not knowing
which fuels too many of my thoughts: Powerlessness in Remarque's soldiers
on the front. I'm not dressed properly. Oh quit complaining; it's really
not that bad, Kelly. I start to pack my bags and my roommate drills
wooden holes; she's got ideas.
My mother calls again, everyone I remember
calls even though we left each other behind awhile ago. There is nothing
in the realm of my control; I lose my balance. I have no control, imagine
that: I AM LOSING CONTROL.
I' ll close my eyes and think nothing more. Instead I see planes and
flames crashing waves of fire on building, after building, after building.
I'm much better today. Secretly, it lingers. God, make the memory go
It's a slippery slide, falling in love with you.
Indelible devil masked, which name ought I give you?
Not my angel, not my god, a ghost with too much importance.
Met you when we fell in the sky together, by chance.
All the way down you are near in my sight,
This is the sublime, falling into flight.
We gather ourselves and find a concentric commonality
Shooting glitz meteorites
no one wake me please.
Movie star-messenger, Gibreel? Gabriel?
Angel explains miracles to Virgin Mary.
She shares her excite with the heavens.
She finds a corner, breathes.
A mother at last, she thinks
Now we're back
Two celestial birds without wings.
Reach for my hand and kiss my neck whispering:
' Things are not what they seem.'
We're almost there baby, hang on.
Then, suddenly, you've ceased to glow.
From the top of head: iridescent protruding horns.
Cannot be, I am gonna shut my eyes and remember my place.
I'm not yours to keep, fie! I've made my last mistake.
Your mouth blossoms open wide -stale stained teeth.
Who you've become is sheer disgrace.
I want to go back home, call my friend
(8:14pm- I'm starting to drown now.)
I imagine what it's like for others to suffer to help me through this
time. I am so scared and I crushed by the Senator's body weight. He is
heavy on me. I imagine a place away from North America, somewhere in Northern
Africa. A place called Oran. Why am I thinking about this town? Is someone
controlling my thoughts? I'd rather play along since I do not know if
I will be able to think of anything in an hour.
I visualize little girls screaming because their father is gone and relate
to them. They want to be close to a man and be held tightly.
Everything is going to be alright little girl," we hear them say.
The Senator isn't speaking anymore. He's passed, out. Oh well, the I'll
focus on the girl:
She takes my hand and we run through the town laughing and I buy her red
candy. It brings me joy to see her hopeful eating her candy, now crunching
it. She is so cute she reminds me of myself.
She persuades me to sit down on this bench next to a rat turned over on
its side. Fresh blood trickles down the side of its mouth. I wonder if
my leg is just cold from the water or is that my own blood. I cannot move
my leg. Oh well. I like being with her-a fantasy world. We sit and she
tells me her father died of the plague. " he got IN-FEC-TED,"
she says in a raspy voice. I ask her what is the matter, if she is sick-her
voice sounds frail. She lets out a scream and kneels over, rests her head
on my lap. I begin to cry and don't know why exactly. I pet her head.
My hand runs down the bottom of her head onto her neck. There are two
giant protruding lumps. It looks like she is giving birth to alien-like
organisms, except they don't move: They are hard as rock.
I feel her pasty forehead stuck
to my right thigh, my pants are torn there from the clutch-it ripped into
my clothes. The little one breaks into a sweat. She is fainting. Her arm
drops over the bench as if reaching for air. I try to pick her up,
but she is too heavy.
I think of Ted's weight on
The girl pushes off from my leg and gets a last look. Her eyes bloodshot.
Her body-fatigued and dry. Her clamy hands reach for me, she wants to
be held. I am scared that I will catch her disease. I stare at her and
hope she is just a dream
I close my eyes and try to remember what it feels like when I haven't
eaten for a few days.
I feel better now.
Dear god, am I dead yet? I see a pretty face he looks like a sad angel. He has
a rope around his neck;tied. I remember playing games with Ted in bed; he tied
me up. I couldn't see my face. Did it look like this little boy's? His face
is golden. It fills my heart. There isn't much to fill because my heart is pretty
small. I don't really have much room for compassion. I'm really busy.
Elizier says there is nothing to do to save the precious boy. His eyes glued
to the vista. He isn't looking at anyone or anywhere,but through everyone and
everywhere. Is he looking through me? Does he see my affair? Does he know my
history with the Ted. If he could muster up the strength; he could save me.
I cannot be dead yet? Elizier says I am looking at the sacrifice of god. "God
is dying here Kelleher." Elizier keeps calling me by my last name. "Please
call me Kelly," I say and having a good look around. The others. Do they
all know whom I've had as a lover? They all seemed to preoccupied, preoccupied
with the death of this angel.