Who’s actually running up
what hill? The world seems
off-kilter with a Kate Bush
song at number one and
parades of t-shirts with
a leaf motif. I won’t
ask if I’m the only
one who feels this
way. Who feels
anybody (any
more?) – or
I mean the
way Deanna
Troi feels. I
don’t even feel
like asking her, to
be honest. Being
honest is like fighting
the power (these days?).
Who wants to fight the
power just to tell the
truth? Seriously, though,
who are you, running up
that hill, and where’d you
find such power to reach
such a speed? And what
are you here to tell us
(What are you here
to tell me? Why
are you here?)?
I mean that in the
most earnest way feas
ible, at this juncture.
Which is where we
are now – gosh,
I’m sorry I keep
doing that –
it’s where I am
at this moment.
Fighting the power.
And for what? Bzzz!?
Hi. I started to say
I don’t care anymore
about who you are now.
About any thoughts but
my own. But I took a
test on how not to
care and I failed.
Miserably. So
who are you?
No, don’t tell
me. In this
dream, that
would be a
lie, wouldn’t it?
I suppose it would be.
But one can dream,
as they say. And
that I most
assuredly do.
