Eating at a restaurant where the food was all described as young and tender,
you said that you had ‘absolutely nothing’ to say, chewing chewing-gum.
Without looking at each other, I said, ‘Did I ever tell you,’ (knowing
I hadn’t), and proceeded to tell the same old story, except that I couldn’t remember
it properly, thinking for a second that it might have turned out differently,
which it didn’t, which isn’t to say I’d change a thing, trying to decide what colour
I’d call the ceiling if forced to call it a colour. On/After the day it happened,
something moved in the darkness and I stamped on it, all morning.
What would it feel like to undergo electrocution? What was/Was that
a hovercraft? Dissecting seafood, you explained how if you walk behind
someone on a deserted street you only have to quicken your step slightly
to instil fear in the person that you’re following, or about the developing
technological capabilities of rendering the artificial ‘real’. ‘When you empty
water into a vessel and then shatter the vessel the water stays, just for a moment,
where it was, no longer slightly different from itself.’ Was that blood
in the mayonnaise? I thought. Was that window blue on purpose?
Like a thought cut into speech, or black line next to nothing, everything echoes
and then the echoes meld, like unwittingly walking into a place you’ve just left
and not realising it’s the same place, or knowing why you’ve chosen to go in.
Can’t you see a face? Can’t you catch a brief glimpse from a passing train,
like the trains you can’t see in a Hopper painting? On / Before the day it happened,
we watched that episode of The Sopranos (1999 –2007) where Tony dreams
he’s running from an angry mob and ends up riding on his horse inside the house
he used to live in with Carmela. You laughed the way you laugh when you’re
not really paying attention, so I imagined you getting shot in an assassination
meant for someone else and went upstairs to hold on to the bathroom railings.
Without looking at each other, something moved in the darkness. Without saying
anything, I thought for a second that it could have turned out differently.