the glass room and the tanker

A large glass room jutting onto the beach. Behind it, a forest of trees, perfectly straight, symmetrical pieces of wood with the tops cut off, like logs stood on end. I stand and marvel at the design. I say approving words to no one else; no one can hear me because I am here and they are all in the glass room. So many people I know in the glass room. I am reminding myself of how I know each of them when the ship appears at the horizon. An oil tanker, slick black and barnacled like I imagine whales to be, heads for the beach, for the glass room. It is bearing down too fast as its surface breaks, curves upwards like a fish. Suddenly the tanker flops like a massive trout on a hook, rearing from the beach, disturbing the ocean in great waves that finally catch...

Read More
Posted on 8 Feb 2010 | 1 comment

empty-handed

I dreamed of preparing to move away. Everything I owned had to be packed into suitcases and boxes. The sky outside was light but I knew it was nighttime. As I packed my clothes, they changed colors and shapes. Some of them hopped or crawled out of their containers. It was a losing battle. Finally I decided to leave with empty suitcases. As I was zipping the last one up, I looked down to see a necklace I lost a decade ago: an iridescent glass bottle shaped like a teardrop with a tiny cork stopper. I put the necklace around my neck and left, empty-handed and smiling.

Read More
Posted on 15 Nov 2009 | Comments Off