And So It Is Written

Stop.  Don’t move.  I don’t know you.  Remember, I’m not a creep.  I’m something else.

I want to get inside your brain, ride in a plastic swan down your fallopian tube or run a dice game in your testicle, depending upon your sex, move like a desire out of your heart and through your arteries and veins;  sparking your circuits while the locals sing Auld Lang Syne over a fire in the mist.  Count the falling cards until I get a good idea … maybe not who you are, but what you are … of how the cells and blood, the tendons and bones, everything hard and soft, fits together into your form.  I’d look for your hopes and crimes, your secret selves hidden from everyone, the despair of the night, the lust for something that no one understands, the smiling, the pain, the unrequited love, everything.  Do you mind?  When was the last time you cheated or told a lie?  Offered kindness for no reason?  Left a 50% tip?  How many times have you been genuine unto the day?  Kissed your lover … hugged your child … taken something you shouldn’t have … had a glass on the porch in the cool of the evening without a care?

I’d hug you when you were troubled.  I’d breathe the same air in front of your face.  I’d go with you to work and sit beside you when you read, stand at the foot of your bed, hover around your house as the moon shines through the windows.  I’d listen to your thoughts beat out messages to Paris or down the block.

I’d take a notebook to keep score.  I’d diagram your spirit, float through your dreams, sidle up to your conscience and absorb your feelings into my own.  I’d sit on the hearth, take a place in the family photo, drown in your tub, rest in the vase where you keep the dust of Little Bits, your favorite dog.  I’d poke around until I got to the bottom of you.

But, why, you ask.  Why, would I want to do something like that?

Because I want to be a minor god who writes a good book millions of people read and you’d be the main character.  Critics would say, Duke Miller certainly has a way of getting inside his characters.  If a flower is a flower and not the words of a flower, than Duke Miller has violated the realms of reality.  When I read his book, page by page, the characters began to move into my house.  They took over my hidden  pornography and found my mason jar of old quarters.  When I bought the book on Amazon, I didn’t realize his characters would eat all the roast beef in the refrigerator and go bowling with my team.  When I went into the back yard I found piles of bodies, they shouldn’t have been there, yet there they were in all the gloom of death.

You, along with my other characters, would finally come out of the houses and walk the streets like so many lost people; little persons in search of other little persons who sprang from the pages of our book.  Most of you would be about the height of the title on the front cover.  I’d make sure of that, because anything less might put you at a disadvantage in dealing with insects.  I’d call to you on tiny cell phones no bigger than a speck of dust.  We’d gather in a new country and share our thoughts.  We’d live out the story of our mystical book.  We’d kill the bad guys over and over again.  We’d make love to the lovers over and over again.  We’d save ourselves.  We’d be happy.  You and the other worthwhile characters, not the scummy ones, would encourage me to write more books and soon every town and city would be inhabited  with our best characters.  You’d advise me on what to write and you’d help me pick the people that I’d need to get inside of.  We’d make history.  We’d change the world and finally we’d board a spaceship from one of our books and travel to a different galaxy, somewhere very far away, where racism, misogyny, homophobia, religious intolerance, all forms of bigotry, war, murder, torture, child abuse,  crappy politics and just about anything that might make you feel bad, would be absent.

We would all become minor gods … and so it is written.   Thanks.  Duke

 

5 thoughts on “And So It Is Written

  1. Well, that was an interesting ride. I went down on that glide right with you, my friend. I look forward to the next one. you are crancking em’ out these last couple of weeks. Kep up the inspired work!

    Liked by 1 person

  2. … And so it shall be done.

    I’d like to live next door, and visit on public holidays, maybe when the sky turned green with pending hail. I wouldn’t stay long. I’m easily overwhelmed. Like now. Whew! I’m exhausted just reading that.

    Liked by 1 person

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