An Attempt at Remember (Interlude)
I Was a Duck; My Schtick was Just to Sit Here
—Lauren Shufran
Years later, I stayed over. The next morning
I was completely broken, bawling into my
tiny phone: “Love!” “Love!” “One plus one!”
Deliberately. Twice. Please don’t let the
floodgates know that he’s not you and that
I’m not me. I couldn’t believe how sweetly
he responded (how he must have felt!). Del-
iberately. I, so utterly occupied, had let go
of the one quality that kept me myself. What-
ever honest was went for a walk. Incredibly.
After this, bittersweet juice, as ever. We’re
faeries at the Ferry Building, a morning show
which actually happens years later, an after-
word. I’m up at 7:15am. I’m real. Real. And
here he is lying in bed. Right beside me. Lying
but not lying. Real but surreal, or awake, or
aghast, but no, with me, pressed against me
in his way, it has to be. Or. Somehow the
warmth permeates from the other side.
Remains in reel to reel. In conclusion,
the interlude. I get up sometimes. And
soon I find myself somewhere. Famili-
arity dissipates (family disappears);
even as I lie here (I am not lying!).
Same bed. Same bedroom, save some-
thing’s glowing. In the sky, something’s
glowing. It’s the sky. No. The clouds
are glowing this morning. I’m
in the shadows, having been awake
for a while. I’m waking up. The move-
ment of shadow over my face awakens
me from a long dream. Look how the
clouds are glowing today! I must go visit
with them. I’m going to go visit them now.
