Tramadol Dreams

Tramadol Dreams
by Pat A Physics

Drawn up by cables along the side of the mountain,
I wore my calculator watch on my wrist for all to see.
The sky carved an eggshell that encompassed the view.
At the summit, I whistled, happy with where we were.
This made adult people clear their throats and shift around.
I brought out some candy. I tried to share with them,
but they were too busy trying to ignore me and my gun.
Forcing the caramel upon somebody, I felt empowered.
The evening was almost cool, but I left my coat alone.
The stars up there were all out of order.  Flickering like a tilt sign.
There was some talk of going back down, but I said no.
Steel-wire rope flew and disappeared behind dark green cacti.
The operator happens to be my new best friend, he said so.
There’s a distant banging, nearby conversations, a coyote.
I howled along with the hidden animal for the sheer hell of it.
It was loud, effective enough to create a quiet stretch of time.
Up here, there are loud things followed by grave silence.
That is why I chose this remote site for my grand finale.
The unanswerable mind gong ringing through eternity
touching pine cones and oceans and other mountains
simultaneously with its piercing shock. A blinding spark
that deadens rapids, gusts, traffic in a single step.
My perception registers pleading bumps of human words.
They are such kind words, so kind- I can’t understand them.
My mind tries to absorb them, but all I can do is howl.
Once we start our descent, my disintegrated mouth is shut.
Someone hands me a drink. It’s time for milk and cookies.
Bending flames into white dancing smoke above bottles,
these people live in TV land. That’s where I’m from, too.

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