mmmxiii

The Freudian Slip

has potential

as a title in that

it might be followed

by a saucy story or

a couple of shots

of poignant

double entendre,

something that

gives the reader

a little slap, which

is followed shortly

by a rather stinging

smack, a feeling of

déjà vu that quickly

and hauntingly is re

vealed to be a gaping

crack on the surface

of the very soul of

the reader, something

that might force her

to contort into

the shape of the

caricature in

The Scream,

never able

to break free

from that 

shape, 

which

ever

after

emerges

regularly

from and

then quickly

disappears

back into the

shadows at the

edge of town, a

creepy reminder

of the ugliness that

can almost always

be found when we

dig too deeply.

And at the end of

this performance,

there might appear

an Oedipal character,

recognized by each

member of the aud-

ience as Oneself,

who appears

on a muddy set

and is dark

as murk but

for something

it has in its

tight grip;

something

spotlit by

strobe light,

that quickly

and arrhythmic-

ally gouges deep,

deep, deeper into

its body, its flesh,

its hull, until the

theater is flooded

with a throbbing

red fog.

It might

just as easily

serve as an

alert to whom-

ever might pass

to watch out

for clichés, which

might be buried

so deeply within

a big monster

of a cliché 

that it might

be a bit disturbing

when the actual

cliché farm is

arrived upon

at some un-

godly hour 

like 3 in the

morning or

the moment 

dusk arrives

at the butt end 

of a less than

memorable

weekend.  It is

a pretty ordinary

title that has about

an ocean-sized 

amount of po

tential. From 

here, things 

can go upwards 

to pretty much

anywhere.  I

wonder where

you thought you

might be going 

(if you thought

you might be

going anywhere).

Or if you even

gave it a thought.

Was there any

trepidation?  I

wonder how you

feel about me now?