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Lots of Questions
- University of Pittsburgh Press
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3 Lots of Questons How strange to arrive anywhere. Then what? Turn on the hotel room TV to check for a good storm, find some water to walk on, partake of the local produce, size up the local pearls? And how do the indigenous sleep in this din? Wrapped in their wings hanging upside-down or woven in piles, perpetrating a collective snore? Is this where god fits in with lots of reading matter and antimatter? Someone who knows better says it’s all a joke but he who knows the most thinks it’s the only way to fly an egg, his authority based on years of pubic service. At which point I tugged off the headphones and turned from that ambience of mispronounced misprint to the more immediate miracles, scrape of chairs, jackhammers’ retorts, some squalling babe with a bumped head being taken out. Is this the proof god’s been looking for that we exist, what makes up this world we are in flight from, amniotic chimeras of the past tearing at the shrink-wrapped future? Don’t try to tell me it’ll all work out, that a blind tinkerer always comes up with an answer just as the sun comes up to put a tooth-pasty gleam on the mess of last night. I still feel a little woozy drunk but mostly I was hardly there which means not much here either. ...