ii
August 2nd, 2011 § Leave a Comment
He opens his eyes. Instantly the night’s thoughts and dreams evaporate. A lifting into the day, hiding from why and unknown fears. Vampires. It’s like a vampire lying in its coffin at the mention of coming daylight, he thinks. Seeing any light erases what happened while under blankets, the scurry of mice tapping on the hardwood floor. I was thinking about Carmen, he remembers.
Within a few hours only impressions of dreams remain. Frames lifting throughout the day. Or emotions. Fear: a lost black wallet–a tight close-up on its scuffed and scratched black leather. Cinematic. His dreams were almost always cinematic.
Carmen didn’t come up all day.
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