He came to a place of emergence.
Past flooding up through the Earth,
he crawled from the center, a humid mess of limbs
into a bright supermarket. Naked, painted blue
his hair tangled and flat. He crouched on the tile
gathering his wrists. Everything was a buzz with artificial light and
inviting within reach seeds of the World hung
organized, packaged and conveniently labeled.
Aisles stretched to the four directions. A market mandala.
Red Meat rising to the East, Poultry and Eggs
The lonely Lives Alone angel hovers in slacks
beside Cornish hens quietly inspecting them.
Lawn Care and Pool Supplies on special
to the South. For assistance there is
the Philosopher monster with his cumulus curls arranging
citronella candles. He knows more than fertilizer.
Sun sets on Reason Being filling her red basket
with Sam's frozen dinners and Martha's pot pies.
Around her neck is a tasteful fur. She keeps
her arms bent because her elbows are wrinkled.
Old Man to the North stands studying soup labels
long lights flickering above, glasses low on his nose.
He carefully measures differences between
major name brands and store labels.
He had come to a wide world with high-piled apples.
He plucked one from the mound. A garden!
A place of food and light! He decided to stay
in this new and improved world, gather strength
rest on the cool floor.
No sooner had he made his nest than
a ghost broke the air in thin, scratchy scrawls:
Security to produce.
He knew not what was said so checked the wind and
laid his head to rest.
First he heard them jingling, then their strange
nasal tongue. Two ghosts with stiff skin and
stars on their chests tried to grab him but
his magic was good. He leapt over oranges
ran for corn. A gray woman, Old Age
held her silver cart in his path. He crashed tangled.
Polyester ghosts lifted him from the seeds of their world.
Old Age blushed at his powerful blue paint.
He squirmed free and dashed for the South
toward sunlight, toward great doors between.
It was a slippery birth. He left blue prints on the tile.
Looking back, everybody was running!
This scared him. He leapt for the doors
left Artificial Light world for the next.
Doors closed behind him. He leaned
into the wind and ran for yellow madness.
His feet burned. Cars barely missed him!
At the empty lot he turned for the Ocean,
distant sirens struck a sinuous wail.
From the confusion a new voice came to him.
It offered a nice pair of shoes...his for the keeping,
a jogging suit, too! But he must wake up
and be part of the economy.
©CopyrightCactus May