I sketch the impressions that even now fade away. A night sky, a street filled with teens partying, cavourting, fighting. They close around me, and I just manage to break away.
Another street, with darkened brownstones, and commercial buildings in the distance. I walk with someone I call a friend, although I do not recognize him. We enter one of the commercial buildings, then a spartan lab of some sorts. A black leather-back chair, like in a dentist’s examination room, rests near off-gray walls, facing a wall-mounted wide-screen monitor. A white-coated doctor, who resembles the antagonist of the Netflix series “The OA” places a wired helmet on my head.
I race through new crowds, whose masses reshape before my every thought, and locales blend and bleed like melting ice cream under an August sun.
This doctor is not a good man. I must break away from him, for he wants what no one should possess. I glance in a mirror. A woman’s smooth face and blond hair glances back, identical to the protagonist of the OA.
I escape, only I don’t, because I encounter the doctor again. And again. And again!
Night continues. Everywhere I run is this cityscape that never ends.
a robin song
WD April PAD 2019 21/30
Poets United’s Poetry Pantry #477 (posted by Sherry Blue Sky)