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Feb. 15th, 2012 12:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
proximoceptionThe dream people returned and refused to have sex. So I began asking questions.
"Where does God go when he doesn't exist?"
They said search my life for change, buy a payphone and ask him. When I called I heard mostly nasal white noise, some crying. A few attempts at responses all trailed off in vague, high-pitched whimpers. He sneezed and all the earpiece points flared flamelets. Tiny burns on my head were my answer, they told me after. Circles, like derelict cells.
"How are why and how both why?"
They consulted together a moment and bought me a cheap finger trap. They had me put my index fingers in, put my hands on a block, chopped the trap in three with a D shaped knife. A two-nailed finger island rolled out of the middle one, pointed up and downtown. I knew this part of me would be gone if I looked in either direction, that I'd forget where the other end had pointed while looking away. This was a choice. I called God again for advice but he wouldn't exist. I looked downtown. A parade went between one building and another, both vast, just twenty feet apart. You could never see a whole float at once. Each was swamped in, surrounded by barefoot paraders. The wheels were circles of feet on sticks. All paraded because they had feet and by means of feet.
"When will time run out of me?"
They mixed for cookies in a bowl with a hole in it. A sad snake of dough found the floor. Its toe turned and spiraled as more dough came out. It went into a grate and disappeared. Four years later it popped out another near me while I watched a saddening baseball game. It was black with soot, sprinkled with white dots and bearded with nasty accretion. It wagged its tip at me in solemn warning. The nitrates in my hot dog then glowed with such malice I threw it away. Every day since which I've lived forever.
"Where does God go when he doesn't exist?"
They said search my life for change, buy a payphone and ask him. When I called I heard mostly nasal white noise, some crying. A few attempts at responses all trailed off in vague, high-pitched whimpers. He sneezed and all the earpiece points flared flamelets. Tiny burns on my head were my answer, they told me after. Circles, like derelict cells.
"How are why and how both why?"
They consulted together a moment and bought me a cheap finger trap. They had me put my index fingers in, put my hands on a block, chopped the trap in three with a D shaped knife. A two-nailed finger island rolled out of the middle one, pointed up and downtown. I knew this part of me would be gone if I looked in either direction, that I'd forget where the other end had pointed while looking away. This was a choice. I called God again for advice but he wouldn't exist. I looked downtown. A parade went between one building and another, both vast, just twenty feet apart. You could never see a whole float at once. Each was swamped in, surrounded by barefoot paraders. The wheels were circles of feet on sticks. All paraded because they had feet and by means of feet.
"When will time run out of me?"
They mixed for cookies in a bowl with a hole in it. A sad snake of dough found the floor. Its toe turned and spiraled as more dough came out. It went into a grate and disappeared. Four years later it popped out another near me while I watched a saddening baseball game. It was black with soot, sprinkled with white dots and bearded with nasty accretion. It wagged its tip at me in solemn warning. The nitrates in my hot dog then glowed with such malice I threw it away. Every day since which I've lived forever.
