My wife an I are staying at some kind of Indian temple or ashram kind of place. I'm walking up these round platformed stairs to where I find my wife reclining on a cushion bed. She is wearing a full length Victorian-style black widow's dress, her face is soured. I too am wearing black, a sort of Asian loose fitting garment like you might see in a mystical kung fu movie. My wife is telling me she'd like to move back to New York City.
-Uh! I don't want to move back there.
-Well, that's ok. I wasn't planning to move back there with you. I'm thinking of leaving you.
-Why?
-I just can't live with you anymore.
I find myself walking over to this precipice. I look down and see nothing but blackness, but I know it must be about a thirty foot drop to the next floor. I leap off into nothingness. I do a forward flip with a double twist and land softly, with ease, onto my feet. I climb the staircase again.
-See! I'm indestructible, but living without you would destroy me, please don't leave me.
Pearl-like tears leave my eyes. And then she says to me.
-I need to be with the all the time relaxed, part-time party people.
And what could I say to that?
Friday, July 6, 2007
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