the place, the name
I lie awake trying to reconstruct the floor plan of every house that I have ever lived in. I conjure certain items perfectly; a twisting metal bannister, a garden hose, a broken ceiling fan. Images fade before I can fully remember. Details like color and texture distort the mirage.
Maybe I have fallen asleep.
South Germany. I find myself in the hallway of a familiar hostel; as I float down the corridor I am thinking of home. No place comes to mind, only color and sound. The door that should lead to my room opens tenderly. It’s hot. No air conditioning.
I stand in the hallway and crack the door further. It reveals the beautiful Arizonian desert, but I can’t stop sweating
. It’s otherworldly silence slips into my socks and I carry it with me like sand between my toes (blood under my nails). I’m in the passenger seat of a borrowed Mustang convertible with a borrowed father. My forehead pressed to cold glass, which only gets colder as The sun sinks, threatening to bow under the dunes and leave us alone. The shadows of our figures distort and elongate. I watch my father get into the car without a word. I could have watched him drive off. I’m still watching my shadow grow and dance until it assimilates into blue sand. I pick it up and sift it through my hands; when I look up, I am at a tourist trap beach in Florida. It is bright, It is crowded and loud, I am young. I believe I can dig to China. I believe that digging can be constructive. My little hands don’t move much material and I give up to go play in the water. My mom yells something in my direction, but it is distorted by sea breeze and waves breaking. I crawl to the crowded water and submerge myself. Smiling and splashing turns to gagging and flailing. I’ve been laced with a horrible, new wave, psychedelic drug and maybe I’m drowning. And now It’s midnight, I’m old now, and maybe I am dying. The current holds my head down and waves crash onto my back over and over. When I get the chance to look, my mother is still young and beautiful, waving to me from the shore, mistaking the sink for a show. I catch a final glimpse of land. It looks like Switzerland.
If I can rebuild the place I can walk through it again. I can analyze every detail of my life with what I know now.
