|
|
|||
|
|
Dandelionfrom Bone Drift by Ariana Burns
copyright 2000 by Ariana Burns
I don’t remember much from
that morning. I think it’s a side effect from the heat stroke.
I do remember being thirsty. Before that there’s a big blank
spot. Before the blank, I’m in a diner, staring out the
window. Everything before the big
blank doesn’t seem real. People chatter. Silverware clinks on
plates. There’s a smudge of cigarette smoke. Tee tries to
cheer me up. I’m depressed and she wants to me to be happy.
She’s scared I’m gonna off myself. What she doesn’t know is Everything before the big blank doesn’t seem real. People chatter. Silverware clinks on plates. There’s a smudge of cigarette smoke. Tee tries to cheer me up. I’m depressed and she wants to me to be happy. She’s scared I’m gonna off myself. What she doesn’t know is let down and that’s just what Death is going to be. Another thing is I can’t talk about this to Tee. She gets a contact high off depressed people. But she’s wants to be a good friend, and is praying to God, I don’t actually open up because she can’t take it. And, I can’t do that to her. She already knows I feel trapped by life. She feels it to but can’t bear to hear someone say it. It’s okay though. She’s already forgotten about helping me. She runs through the laundry list of her problems. And I’m staring out the window at this freaky dust storm. It shifts and moves the wrong way. Bits of stinging dust whip out of control. It’s a perfect metaphor for my fucked up life. Then the storm changes. And I see it for what it truly is. It’s not a metaphor. Hell, it’s not even a dust storm. It’s only a dumb-ass bulldozer. I’m on the verge of tears, thinking how unfair it all is. I can’t even manage a decent metaphor without it turning into a bulldozer. Then this guy steps out from behind the bulldozer. He’s got a chain saw. It jumps in his grip, a thing possessed. They’re going for the elms. Those bastards! They’re a National Landmark, and if they aren’t they should be. God knows how many people had their First Time there, myself included. They ought to be building an interpretive center next to it, not letting those losers knock them over for three lousy parking spaces. No one notices. They chatter and drink their coffee. Then there’s that blank spot Then I’m thirsty. I’m thirsty and I can’t articulate it. Like being thirsty isn’t important. It’s not the REAL issue right now. I can’t move either. But that’s because I’m chained to an elm tree. It’s hot too. The guy with the saw argues with another guy. Tee stands next to a cop, chain-smoking. He keeps saying "history of mental illness." Tee says, "No" and offers to feed me her meds. This is when the dandelions spoke. Well, not really. I’m not an idiot. We were communing. But I had to tell Tee that they spoke. It’s the only way I could get her to understand. They’re grateful I did what I did. Most people don’t give a shit about them. I know I didn’t until they spoke. They say that it wasn’t just this grove but all the forests that need saving. And I think I can’t do dick about that. I’m paralyzed by life. And then, they ask me if I was still trapped. When they asked that, the chains fell away. They collect in a heap on the ground, and just like that, I’m free! The dandelions cheer and it sounds like a crowd at a football game. Or may be it’s the onlookers. I don’t know. Even the fog is gone. For the first time in my miserable life, no fog. I only know that I’m free. And I bolt for it. I’m running harder than I’ve ever run in my life. Nothing can catch me. I’ve got wings. I have to get to the forest. I charge for the nearest vehicle, which happened to be the patrol car. And then like Icarus, I’m falling. I crash hard to the earth and roll over to see the cop hanging onto my legs from tackling me. I stare eye-to-eye with this paragon of justice and we share a moment of recognition. He knew I knew who I was. I finally had a purpose. I’m free. And once I post bail nothing will hold me back. |
||
|
|||
