"It's about words, and words are all I have…"



Running down a narrow path  black night  freezing cold

Snow   I know it’s dangerous +check over my shoulder

periodically   No boogieman after me    Silly


Path leads to door  inside is a slot in the floor  where the

top of a ferris wheel pokes through  You can either take a

seat  or stay in the closet like space    Believe me  I check

carefully for alternate exits


The only other one is the way I came   Dark path  black ice

remember?  But I am not good with heights so I linger in the

closet  +ponder my fate   I notice that the wheel is powered by

huge elephants  who are hosed down  mercifully


Otherwise they walk in slow circles methodically  Does this scene

remind you of anything?  Is the black icy path the birth canal?  The

ferris wheel  the wheel of life?  The elephants  we humans  chained

for eternity?


Wait a second!  I notice an area adjacent to the closet like cell   There is

a guy  +a girl   youngish  who are gatekeepers of a sort  Gods?  Parents?

The he  tells me  as he slides a needle into my arm  that the drug called

____   will make it easier  + I will now be able to handle the job of the



I will be the power behind the ever turning wheel!   Does this make me feel

better?   More in control?  I will be a giant beast of burden  with huge ears

+a trunk   I can crush the evil-antlike humans at will   And wait   I think he

said the drug even takes the burden out of being a beast    Yes   Please


I get it    When you are born  you go to sleep  forget all of the wild in your

being   Then life  the drug   the dopamine  becomes addicting  +you sell your

real-estate  to get onto the wheel   Why  it’s only a carnival ride!


Much later  when your old elephant bones are weary  they spray you with

cool water  + it’s glorious   You even begin to love a little  being a beast

The very one who powers  the goddamned machine!


Now sitting in a cafe  mid-summer’s day  A girl with tanned bouncing breasts

glides by   ball cap  iPad   wicked grin   The breeze is heavenly    I’ll have some

more of that needle    Please



In memory of Elie Wiesel  Jew #A-7713  who walked the wheel in Buchenwald

and later Auschwitz  until age 16  when in April 1945  he was liberated 



Summer  2016


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