Nova
I’d catch the last bursts of color, then the credits, on Sunday night before Upstairs, Downstairs: it came from Boston. I rubbed alcohol on the soles of Brian Nagy’s Hushpuppies, then slid a Bunsen burner under the desk. I was riding in Tracey Nesbitt’s Nova when the coal from his Marlboro blew off and lodged, flaring, in the laces of my tennis shoes. The American Dream: a road, and emptiness to burn out in. When Villanova played Georgetown for the NCAA basketball championship in Lexington, KY, one of the local stations had its own pre-pre-game show. The announcer found two nearly-drunk local businessmen with two more-than-nearly-drunk Villanova co-eds and ran with it for fifteen minutes: names, where the men worked, were they enjoying the festivities? Imagine the silence the second day after those men got home. But, heck, I’ve been divorced, and I can always think of something else to say.
Event Horizon
I can barely stay awake past midnight, but for years I’ve been bassist in Bud Powell’s trio. In Lubbock, TX, it would suddenly strike me when I was taking a shower or checking the mail that Hugo Sanchez, the best finisher of his generation, had to be doing something at the same moment in Madrid, even if he was only wondering what Alfredo Di Stefano was doing. I suppose I could have been born a virus that attacks only pelicans—Goth girls might find that appealing, but I’d never know, since I’d be festering in endless drizzle on some cliff. Or a jaguar: at an Olmec exhibit, I saw sculptures of shamen turning into jaguars. According to the Tibetans, though, an animal birth would be a step backwards. But if I consider the probabilities long enough, my being here breathing might come to seem so unlikely that I’d give in to reason and stop. So far I’ve been lucky. Even if I’m by myself, I’ll fall asleep, or someone will dial a wrong number.
Cancer
Hera sent the crab to distract Hercules as he fought the hydra. The crab bit Hercules on the ankle, but Hercules won anyway, so when Hera put the crab in the sky, she made all its lights dim. Second place, that’s my place, starting with that paper-mache duck in fourth grade and going on through just missing the summer scholarship to England my senior year in college. I was born under a sign whose influence is that you never have enough influence. But Galileo used the Praesepe cluster to prove that there are more stars than the unaided eye can pick out. Look, while I may be vague at times, I’m always underestimated. I’ve dreamed that I wake up, and so far the dream has always come true. Maybe a lot of people have done that, but what about this: like a seer, I’ve had dreams for other people. Once, I dreamed that Myra woke up and, the next morning, there she was. When I pinched her to convince her she was really awake, she got mad.
Space (Collapsing)
Once shrink wrap starts, it’s not going to stop. The ketchup stain on my chin comes from a French fry that reached my mouth too soon. I used to be six feet tall; this year at my physical I measured 5' 11''. Rubber bands wrapped around two paperbacks to keep them together notch the covers and cut the pages. We can put an astronaut on the moon, but now that I’ve finally pushed the digi-pac import of Brian Eno’s Apollo from its plastic sleeve, I can’t get it back in. The woman in the too-short skirt from me keeps pressing her thighs together. Don’t get excited: I know the number of things I’m supposed to notice gets smaller every day. And, anyway, biting my tongue may be one of my least favorite things to do, but I still do it, even when no one’s around to say, "Bite your tongue!"
Tadpole Nebula
I don’t remember the first time I brushed my teeth by myself.
I don’t remember the first time I played a real game of catch with my father, one in which I could be expected to catch a normal toss and throw it back to him so he didn’t have to run too far to get the ball.
I don’t remember the date of the day I first drove a car, or what lesson I learned.
I don’t remember my gall bladder surgery, though I’ve read that some people have heard voices they interpreted as guardian spirits while under full anesthetic.
I don’t remember the moment I realized I really didn’t like cops, as opposed to not liking them because it was cool.
I don’t remember the first time I saw an olive stuffed with anything other than a pimento.
I remember walking across the Ohio River bridge from Kentucky to Ohio and back again with Roger Register, but Roger says we never did.
I don’t remember the first time I saw a fossil.
I don’t remember the first time I read Robert Bly’s line “I wander far off, like a daddy-longlegs blown over water” and felt something inside me start to skate.
I don’t remember the color underwear the first girl to have sex with me was wearing.
I don’t remember the first time I saw rain falling while the sun was still out.
I don’t remember the first lie I ever told.
I don’t remember the first Disney movie I saw.
I don’t remember the first word I said, or wrote, or typed.
I remember saying something insulting about Myra’s favorite band, but when I apologized to her, I realized I’d said it in a dream.
I don’t remember any of the educational films I was shown in grade school.
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Mark Cunningham
