Читать книгу Rodeo in Reverse - Lindsey Alexander - Страница 10

REFLECTION ON FIRST SEASON OF A MARRIAGE

Never get a husband. They never will make cheese plates without a fuss. Get a dog

with thumbs.

Sometimes when my husband does the dishes, I rampage. I rampage when

for some reason the glasses look

dirtier than before a washing or I remember

a loneliness. I shape that loneliness into a broom. I use it to sweep

away happiness,

a state that can often lead to complacency, and also to fly off

the broom’s handle inside me.

We maybe all are holograms,

a reputable scientific journal proclaims, and I tell the husband so after dinner.

But why does this particular projection have small consciousness

that wishes

to sit in a straight-backed chair and recall reciting “Friends, Romans, countrymen” in

high school and this

little hologram goes to market and this little hologram hits zero

stoplights all the way home?

Also, as a projection, I wonder at my own need

to touch. Is light drawn

to light? Desire light?

Why should this little light become inconsolable over the silliest—

Oh, why is there so much of me

in me?

Maybe this is easy

science: Each hologram an imagining light thought to construct,

in which one furry projection drinks from the toilet, one projection sprouts leaves

that fall annually and never improves

at leaf-retention, and my husband—

an invisible who may not exist in the kitchen behind me

if it weren’t for his singing.