Muscle Relaxant & Airport Wine

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

or

Rocketing Through Space and Time in a Most Peculiar Manner

Perception changed the day the drala blew in. Multiple universes unfurl about me. Random noise becomes music—listen to the 737 choir, voices, a baby cries, the bass note thrum of the engines. Indonesians in the last row chirp like crickets.

 

Diet Dr. Pepper is a saccharine-sweet chemical demi-tone. Stalactite monitors, pendulous, drip from the bulkhead, infinite, extending into the distance.

Soma, a muscle relaxant, alters perceptions in a subtle and sometimes horrible way. There is a disconnect here somewhere but is it me, was it the drala, or is it the drugs? Muscle-relaxers and anti-inflammatories mix with airport bar wine.

A dark-haired waif stares at me. All is new, all is god. She is so young to have that little gold earring. Her eyes burn like black holes. She is the most important creature at 30,000 feet as we plow through the atmosphere—children are our purpose, we procreate, expand, learn, conquer, destroy. Go in Jane’s right side and find the baby.

Where has Barry Bayley gone? I have misplaced my antronoscope, and if not for the drala I would be blind. Now I know what the bees know and the flies calculate. Ha that is why I love sleep, furling myself into another universe oh so sweet and terrible.

Time caresses the blunt snout of the aeroplane, scratching an old itch and portending company, methinks. All-dark waits outside the skin. Where now is a pocket of light? Am I growing younger back here?

The child kneels, dutifully, awaiting the rod of change.

 

 

 

Gai—Change, Alter, Correct-Depicts a boy kneeling before a man holding a stick.