The Green Fairy

Floating above the curb, I could see an image catching shadows, along the bedroom walls. It hopped suddenly within the folds of a dress, and light that was loosely focused. The sheets and pillows were thrown aside, leaving tiny impressions of the mattress exposed, and of accidents never revealed.

Hoping to gather with purpose, I hung forward with an outstretched arm and leaned closer. The apparition was dragging a French leash attached to air, along the crêpe of dimly lit books and a dressing mirror. The mirror framed portions of the room not seen from outside. Plants climbed the wall exposing nothing more than beige tinted plaster and a poster by Monet. It was taped with little regard to the composition with borders hidden – lost in fog.

Within the painting, a portrait was scrawled like notes from a journal full of fantasy. This was a self-portrait, a wondering of a cloud lying closest to the ground. Without sun, the story evaporates into the breeze. No one is listening to the edges of the poster, that painted a life.

As the images became dark Bordeaux, the light of candles filled the bathroom. The single vanity is a 50’s apartment model, propped by silver legs. The mirror open, reveals an etched bottle and a secret slit to capture worn blades. Draped sea foam towels and fish-shaped soaps reside everywhere.

Too many tenants have rented what bears this name, with a white paper strip. I don’t know how many were slipped before, but observe the fingered prints, around the address. Grocery receipts and balled lint from pockets, breeze along the currents of life in building 921, Avenue des Oiseaux.

My street side theater is shimmering with headlights that begin to obscure the advantage. Thank you John, who woke up and fell out of bed; who gave me the green fairy.

This dream is awake and I am heavy chested but still breathing. I could only be satiated from a confit, among graves of men, who live in boxes. I eat on an island in the middle of a country. It diverts and weaves a historical “plan de la ville”, and inspires naked tempations that menace the soul.

2010 Barry Comer

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About Barry Comer

I volunteer as a design and communications consultant with Family Scholar House in Louisville, Kentucky, http://www.familyscholarhouse.org the Democratic Socialists of America http://www.dsausa.org and teach children with emotional and developmental disabilities. I have degrees in art and was an art director for 30 years.
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