I knew, since I felt the
ugly rearing of one worm’s head,
I would have to feel its opposite.
It will not be fun, much like a pelvic exam
is not fun. But, it is necessary.

There is weakness of flesh,
and weakness of soul.
Physical flesh is uncontrollable,
ethereal soul is … attainable.

Sometimes, I feel like the devil in disguise.
Disguised as what, I’m not sure…
Love/hate, evil/good, life/death, devil/angel.
Could they not be
the sum of the whole?

If we all are good, wouldn’t that
be static? Unchanging in everything?
Is such a wanted thing? I don’t think so.
If there is no drive to progress
beyond ‘Here’, I think implosion occurs.

I sense this happened repeatedly,
yesterday, only an eternity away.
I don’t want to go backwards.
Explode/Implode. I believe, now,
it’s our choice. With the grace of expansion
I’ve been subjected to by my restless mind.

Listen… I once asked a wise man,
a man I esteem, if he thought fiction
was fictitious. He told me what I know I knew,
but had to ‘hear’. You know? To make sure
you are not crazy? "Nothing that is imagined is fiction.
It exists. Maybe not all here, in this tiny bubble,
but, imagine the infinite possibilities each bubble
waterfalls. Imagine, the stars, each holding a
person’s universe, but, extrapolated into infinity.
That is why stars shine so bright, they are eternity,
glimpsed from afar. And, you can go there….”

And I saw me, in this life, and that life,
like the old Star Trek series, which they are
rerunning, here, on my spot on Earth.
Love them!! The premises, the colors, the lighting…
the dreams. I thought my dreams had died.
My mind dreams. Which I didn’t know I had.

But, when you age, and ‘procedures’ loom,
you think about body, and mind.
You play your music full blast, you
shiver to Supertramp, you are young,
until Monday, when you can only have liquids
for the next 48 hours, and ‘pipe-cleaning’ glasses
of endless chemicals and water, and pills
to make you, ugh, ‘squeaky clean’…
I tear up just thinking of the loss
of fragments of me from this world.
Taking the long way home, with Supertramp.

Know what? I’m taking Supertramp with me, into
that wormhole!! I’ll borrow my daughter’s player,
take my sedative, like the meek lamb I am,
and go into my mind, where I dance without pain
anytime I want. Listen to … Breakfast in America.
It is Poetry in Music, the consumation of Magicians.

Funny thing…. Ha, my best friend, here, just had an attack
of my tummy stuff that lasted a week, a few weeks ago, was
supposed to have her colonoscopy, in Tucson, before me.
Sigh… Synchronicity intervened. Hers is one half hour
after mine, in Safford… I’ve had my appointment
for over a month, How do things like that – happen?
How come poetic justice is biting me in the butt, first?!

Anyway, the weirdest thing about these months of worrying
was today, as I tried to nap. I dozed off, and saw this metal
thing that went straight up, then right angled… (oy…) and
went hooked, at a right angle, again, inside of me,
almost a square, almost. I didn’t get it, at first,
but, luckily, my mind decided it was that test,
and things are cool…

Yeah, things are cool…

Erin Elizabeth Kelly-Moen
© Copyright 8/21/04