Dropped into France with a cosmic vacuous THUD, slowly reaching to awareness to find an old friend married to an asshole. Their baby in hand, glasses knocked off from the distracted head, there is no money in the wallet and no wallet in the pocket. Unable to find a phone to call mom and beg methodically for money.
Venture outside and see the familiar hill that was supposed to be in Prague and realize that all foreign lands are the same if you haven’t been to them. All of the record shops are empty or clutching at straws. Obsess to ghostly women about having to be here nearly blind. A statue of a rearing horse behind a fuzzy pink park bench materializes again in front of the ascending grass.
Wake up on the south side of some declining city and say “At least my glasses are fine.” A familiar woman laughs and slips on her dress, heading to work.
“trompe l’oeil” appears in Haggard & Halloo, June 22, 2007