rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

I Have No Idea

Running through my mind tonight I find other nights when rain fell other places, streets branching and winding rainslicked and glistening lit with lamps now long since darkened, avenues broken by corners unturned, all opening into the maze walled with undisclosed rooms, all paved with unseen stone, all echoing to the same tolling of the same bells, but cut from view by a turn of the wheel or the seeking of some house in the suburbs, some room filled with voices and music, some fumbling clench in a dim corner, the smell of smoke, the glass dripping condensation, the streets yet wrapped around and around outside the flowered drapes, all that maze now reduced to an arcane map fitfully lit by flickering memory, a description only of a world of dark windows and closed doors, rooms void of detail, faint voices drifting from places which will be empty if I arrive, and the rain falling and pooling on asphalt like a vague mirror which reveals images no more distorted than those my thoughts conjure, this place where I am a shadow lurking in a dream, feeling myself watching myself, knowing I will never be discovered.

Tonight I went out to fetch the morning paper. Through the furious rain my flashlight's beam picked it out, the plastic bag stuffed with the news of the world, lying on the shiny black driveway. I brought it in and set it aside for when I wake. The lens of the flashlight was covered with raindrops. Even after I wiped it clean, when I shone it against the wall the remaining moisture filled the circle of light with translucent shapes like small creatures under a microscope. I wondered if I could identify which of them was me. I believe that this rain has at last driven me to distraction.
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