To read Fool’s Odyssey from the beginning, click here.
Chapter Six: Bread Upon the Water (Continued)
Previously: A failure in his brief lives of materialism, sensualism, and idealism, The Fool found no new lives to pursue.
The next day I bought a ticket for L.A. USA,
and waited at the terminal all day,
till nearly nine at night.
We finally got on the plane.
That April sixteenth was the longest in history.
The moon kept drifting around like a
special effect in a movie about time travel
while I kept drifting around thinking timeless things:
My life in the world had been
like an old Warner Brothers’ cartoon.
I was always bounding down some bogus turnpike
toward some tunnel that always turned out to be
merely painted on the side of a mountain,
getting splattered against the hard face of reality,
and then getting up and running off to do it again.
A million variations on the same sight gag,
that was my life.
I fell into a middle state,
“discombobulated,” as they say in
wherever it is they say things like that.
But finally, gently, I wandered into a humble sleep
whilst overhead the angels waged their cosmic wars.
At first I dreamed I was a paranoid Pauline in her perils,
then a heavenly Harold Lloyd
clumsily edging my way along the ledge of Heaven.
And each time I would slip a crowd would gather in Hell
“Jump, jump, jump!”
Then suddenly, I was back on the plane
and a stewardess was handing me a piece of paper
upon which I had to indicate who I was
and what I was bringing back into the country.
“Nothing,” I wrote, “nothing” was what I was bringing back.
In fact, “nothing” was the answer to the first question, too.
To all questions.
“Jump, jump, jump–”
bump—the plane had landed.
To read Fool’s Odyssey 23 click here.