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The Blog Bog
The Mag Rack
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DÉJÀ VU
It happens every New Year's Eve. It's always at the same restaurant. Twenty Cinderellas
sit at tables set for two. Their thoughts move like minutes, anxious for love to strike
before midnight.
Plates and wineglasses occupy their tables. Knives, forks, and spoons wrapped in napkins
wait for action. On each plate, a box of "Happy Nude Year" condoms. In each vase, a
single red rose keep the women company. The scene is the same each year, except for
fashion, aging, and newcomers. Only a few will toast the new year with a mate.
I'm one of these twenty women. Our faces are lined with screwed-up stories. I observe
the quiet desperation. I take out my compact and lubricate my lips. The same desperation
marks my face. The rose is in Prozac withdrawal.
It's 11:35 p.m. Two of the newcomer women are leaving. Their 20-something smiles
radiate. Their Prince Charmings did arrive before midnight, but how long will their lip
gloss, condoms, and euphoria last?
My rose is in striptease mode. It will be January 1st in a few minutes. No one has entered
the restaurant since those two women left.
I decide to leave. As I rise, the tablecloth slides. The plate, wineglass, and vase crash. The
knife, fork, and spoon scatter. The condom box and napkin bathe in wine. My rose lies
naked on the floor.
I exit the restaurant. At the sports bar next door, the ball drops on a flat screen TV. I head
for the subway and crowd in with the drunks. Leaning against the door, I zone out the
noise. My thoughts tell me not to return. But that was last year's resolution and the years'
before.
Patricia Carragon
January 2013___
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WHEN I DIE
when I die,
i don't want to see heaven or hell,
or purgatory's waiting room.
memories send postcards
so I won't forget heaven—
as the illusion
that vaporized
into the other two—
the mirage
that became quicksand below
or the tornado above.
why did life's itinerary
include these visits?
why did oblivion
get ditched from this list?
has anyone been to oblivion?
is it a place
where time forgot,
where pain and joy ceased to exist,
or where the cerebral hard drive crashed?
when i die,
will i know
if this is fact or fiction
or will the truth vaporize
when oxygen leaves my brain?
Patricia Carragon
June 2014___
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MARLEY'S GHOST
i used to be scared of dreams depicting locked doors with animal-headed door knockers
and nighttime london streets lit by ancient lampposts.
the scrooge movie used to freak me out—marley's ghost speaking from the mouth of a
lion-headed door knocker.
in a past life, i was fresh killed "takeout" for a wildcat clan, but the two-legged beasts
have replaced the door knockers.
beware of republican-headed door knockers!
it's on the news and the internet—they found a "home" on your door.
pinch your skin . . . "trump" dreams do come true.
Patricia Carragon
June 2014___
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