Each night when I go to sleep I become a termite. I am an ugly, shiny, pale thing in a colony full of other ugly, shiny, pale things.
I do the work of other termites. I am not very high up in the chain of command. I bite and I bite and I bite at the hard wood. It feels like I will lose my teeth. The other termites bark orders. I work harder. I want to quit but I will starve if I do.
When I wake up I have splinters in my teeth and stuck in my gums. My furniture is fucked. I’ve gone through eight tables this year. The people at the furniture store know me. I’m afraid they have figured it out.
I read a story about a guy who died And then people saw the work He’d toiled over his whole life. It was some kind of art And people marveled about How this quiet old man Had made such rich things And never told anybody.
It’s a story people like. We’re all clamoring for some recognition That what we do in our respective laboratories Somehow matters. Someday people will know what we made. If not in this life, The next.
Eliot and I were convinced That there was a time vortex To the 1990s At the Target on Ohlen Rd. There was some weird energy In the freezer section That extended out to the street Where you could feel that Just on the other side of Some cosmic membrane Tupac was blasting From low riders.
We went to investigate. For some reason we went to The Arboretum To get money And then we bought booze From the Twin Liquor by the HEB. We bought wedding cake flavored vodka Because it was on sale. We needed the booze to properly Investigate the vortex.
Eliot was going on about gemmatria. He said it was the secret to everything. But it sounded to me Like a way to drive yourself mad.
We found a patch of woods To drink the vodka. It was a beautiful spot Next to a creek.
He was a very sad man. I was not as I used to be. I was living with the woman I live with now. He was battling literal demons In the forest of the green belt Where he lived.
We drank the whole bottle And never made it to The Target That day.
Soon he would accuse me Of conspiring with the spirits In his head To try to kill him. I never heard from him after that.