Apposite

Today today today I hit my head and rubbed engine oil in my right eye. It was an accident and I sat in the gutter with my things strewn across the road wishing for urgent rescue, none was to be had. When I finally arrived at the office, battered and with one crazed red eye I stared momentarily at the spinning lady of doom.

I can make her stop and spin the other way, at will. Superman says this is because my left and right brain functions are balanced. I am developing a different theory. All day I argued with myself out loud. I did not realise this until Robert mentioned it as I was leaving, he found it amusing, I find it alarming.

What if I am not in balance with myself but in fact locked in an eternal battle of left vs right. What if this is the reason that I can neither fall off the edge nor climb to the top. I am smashing things then tallying the cost and sweeping the floor. I am piling things neatly then setting them on fire while I call the fire brigade.

Last night in Sappho's cafe I sat at a round sandstone table, like an upturned cotton reel, with Spencer, Madam Squeeze and Superman. We were listening to poets. They were casting out words and I was flailing with my nets and traps. There were ten glasses, two wine glasses, one tall and faceted bottle, one sugar cannister round like a column and five small and flat, white ceramic saucers.

While the poets spoke low into the microphone I imagined I was standing. I imagined I was standing and hurling those glass things against the sandstone table with merry arms and infernal strength. I imagined a night illuminated by flying shards and the stunned arc of people watching in awe as the fragments froze in midair. What beautiful things we make.

What I was actually doing was sitting on my white plastic stool, my left leg folded over my right, my knee pointed towards Superman and his listening face smoking a cigarette over my small red notebook listing the number of glasses and saucers and tea spoons. My left foot was pressed against the column of the sandstone table.

Comments