LIT 150

It’s in the wiring

Light doesn’t feel like light. Do you get that?

You’re in your bed, in your town, but elsewhere. Feels like a farmhouse in the Ukraine.

Everything’s familiar. That is to say, everything’s recognizable. Over there? An old cassette tape. An art deco lamp. Two bulbs: one steady and bright, the other flickers depending on its mood. Doesn’t matter the bulb. It’s in the wiring. It’s in the insulation.

The refinished dresser, a thermostat on the wall. You can smell your feet.

But it’s not home. It’s devastating. You felt that before? Explain it to me. How do you fix it? You sleep? You cry? Do you smash your television set?

Maybe wait for it to pass like children driving through a tunnel? Hold it. Hold it. In the end they feel it in their toes. Their fingertips want air.

Then the gasp. Still alive. Still breathing.