|the light is so bright it hurts. it takes a few minutes, but my eyes finally adjust. its the great plains. as far as i can see is wild grasslands, flat and swaying in the breeze. i hear a clock ticking. no more choir, no more electric song, just this clock. i see the sky mottle and bubble into grays and the great plains become a tundra of frozen buffalo and cowboys on frozen horses. i see tracks and i follow the frozen metal for what seems like hours. i see the ghost town rising in the distance.
i sit down on the frozen grass and as it breaks i hear music. singing about chemicals and the brave new world. splintered yet still shiny and new. i stand back up and stomp on the grass, learning all there is to learn about my ghost town from the jingles and chemisongs frozen in the grass. before i realize it i am back. i am here.
i say this in german. in english. in japanese. and each time i am answered by a partial melody that sounds like a childs alarm clock song. i recite prime number tables. same response. i sing what i know of pi in a jingle format. same response. i sing sitcom themes. i sing toaster pastry jingles. i sing about hot dogs. " oh i'd love to be oscar wildes weiner...." same response. by this time i find i have made my way back to the park. i am not cold, just tired. and as i feel my body turn to lead, i remember i am dreaming the dreams of a ghost town. i close my eyes.