Thursday, 7 May 2015

5. Getting More Done

To get more done, I start dreaming in parallel sequences.
This Jane is slathered in raspberry jam and licking the neck napes
of a dozen popcorn princesses. They’re rolling around in a bed
scattered with husks. There is dust in this Jane’s knickers;
there is polystyrene between her toes. This Jane has taken a day
to squirm and giggle. To get more done. Then there is that Jane.
That Jane is scaling a big hill under a light snow. She thought
it was cherry blossom falling; she thought she was promised
the golden fish. But the fish is wise and whispers that the hill
has no summit and the petals are ash and everything she touches
is wont to burn her skin. That Jane starts to cry and the tears
freeze and make a helter skelter ice cascade sled run—that Jane
falls all the way down. At the bottom of the hill there is a bed
filled with husks and the snoozy ends of laughter. The two Janes
climb in, laughing. They say let's fall asleep without any dreams.

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