Go Dog Go

Outside the world writhes and trembles, groaning under its own weight. I keep the door shut. I sit on the end of the couch which is pushed up against the wall. I sit there. Comfortable. Happy. Content. Waves of music wash over me. Cleansing me. A shared energy shimmers and placates, bursting through the ground like new growth, intent upon finding its voice.
And I sit there. Quiet. Allowing it. Subject to it. Along for the ride.
When all was said and done, the carnage still attracting flies, she looked at me with those black eyes and said, “Well, that was impressive. Amazing. You even kept the beat.”
Amazing to her, yes. To me, perfunctory, banal, my soul diminished.
But I did it. And I fled, dodging blank-eyed, goggle-headed, misshapen lives stumbling about without any reason or purpose -the night of the stumbling dead- only thinking they are alive, but they are far from it.
Today I will walk in and shut the door. I will sit in the corner of the couch, the one pushed up against the wall. When I am ready I will lay down and gaze out the window, through the juxtaposition of glass panes, through the eclipse of the shutters at the roof line, and marvel at the way it’s angled against the agate sky, the phosphorescent lime leaves an appendage in perfect harmony, shivering in deserts’ breath. I will breathe. And again, music will wash over me. And I will be happy, while outside the world writhes and trembles and groans.
More and more everyday, I feel alien.
But today, it will be just me and the couch. And music will light my torch. And I will be happy.