Amelia and an unnamed person, who is probably called William, are picnicking. They’ve decided that they’ll leave the conventional plane of existence by drawing near to each other. The minimum safe separation is half a meter or so. Part one is here.
I was silent.
Sorry, what was that?
I didn’t say anything.
You’re thinking runner-up thoughts,
but it’s time to say goodbye
to your peanut butter and cucumber sandwich,
to the woman with the umbrella and the tiny dog.
I didn’t know that we were in a race.
What if we just dream about another world,
or make it up?
Come close, she said, it’s time to go.
Are the rainbow lorries chirping oddly,
a pentatonic scale?
I don’t think so, nothing’s happened.
What about the wine? I thought it was cab sav.
It was always pinot noir.
Let’s try once more, closer still.
A chance of sunset weather, a shower in the park,
monotremes and probabilistic raindrops
that searched for refuge before they turned to puddles.
Under an umbrella, a tiny dog was yapping,
pretending to be solid.
On the lake, the fire lilies sent their parachute seeds aloft,
swept upward in convected heat
from the ardor of their own combustion,
and above the trees, selected moons were rising,
emitting waves of matter.
At antinodal crossings, the buds of nascent universes blossomed,
but outlined dark against the Olber stars,
the N-whales were waiting.
Their mighty maws extinguished every fiery possibility,
a reminder that I had to put the rubbish out,
that everything’s forever finite,
forever as it had been.
~/~
I dreamed last night at Byron Bay, sifting bones on Shelley Beach.
I met a monster made of mirrors
who quantified my life, its meaning in the mist.
But I don’t recall a single word.
I should have taken notes, a precis in the sand
beyond the high-tide mark.
Célia stifled a yawn. A fascinating story.
Although I’m not called William, and I never was,
I’ve noticed that we’re speaking English.
Quite surprising, for preternatural beings.
Some similarity with our earlier life’s essential,
or else the link is purely the proximity of words,
of which we aren’t aware.
Yet the commonality might be mere coincidence,
in a multiverse of peanut butter and cucumber,
an infinity of meta-sandwiches.
The last few drops of wine
trickled from the bottle,
heading for Célia’s lips.
Let’s travel to another universe,
I’d like a different name.
about
- I have never tried a peanut butter and cucumber sandwich and have no opinion on the taste, or whether they exist.
- Olbers’ paradox— N-whales are one possible, albeit unlikely, resolution.
- A little Hofstadter feedback.
artwork forever finite (detail above)
Tremendous images here, Steve, particularly the fire lilies and their parachutes, and “selected moons” rising. I wonder which lucky ones got to ascend. I’m crazy about the moon, and images of many rising at once give me goosebumps. Also—that sounds like an excellent idea: a trip to another universe.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The moons may have been chosen according to their designs and sizes, especially the plaid ones, but I think it’s more likely they had a roster, otherwise known as orbital mechanics. 😄 An alternate universe is one possibility, or there’s the occasional movie where multiple moons feature. Thanks, Annie.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re welcome, Steve. Who would be privileged enough to select the moons or draw up the roster, I wonder? They must be of a very special specimen in the whole universe, alternate or otherwise.
LikeLiked by 1 person
There are many different answers to that question, Annie. 😉
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh, the possibilities. 😁
LikeLiked by 1 person
Brilliant Steve…the section starting “A chance of sunset weather, a shower in the park,
monotremes and probabilistic raindrops” is beautiful!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Jim. I do love alternate universes, where the rules are whatever you’d like them to be and you don’t have to pay your speeding fines. Perhaps it’s because I’m not overly fond of this one 😃.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Some intense vino they be swigging.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re telling me, Daniel. I would like to get hold of some of that. 😜
LikeLike
With an opening line like that, and the reminder to put the rubbish out, I’m thinking I’m done here. What else could I possibly need to read? LOL.
🥂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Cheers, Vanessa. I’m reading the label on a bottle of Kim Crawford Pinot Gris, or I was. Actually I still have to put the rubbish out. So many empty bottles (joke) (really). 🍷
LikeLiked by 1 person
haha 🥂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Pingback: minimum safe distance 2 — inconstant light | Fantasy Gift Sources: Book Reviews, Article Resources, News
I love this one, too.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Glad you enjoyed, Randy. I had a lot of fun writing the second part.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Célia’s lips is/are a luscious alliteration which I hope persists in any accessible universe. Delish.
LikeLiked by 1 person
It’s a question of quantum probability waves. Alliteration, Célia, and someone’s lips: you might have to settle for two out of three. 😄 Thanks, Peter.
LikeLike
the link is purely the proximity of words,
of which we aren’t aware.
No, never aware of them, Steve. I too would like another name in another universe (sometimes).
LikeLiked by 1 person
Someone is writing our stories, Frank, and we’re unaware of what they’re writing. I think it’s better that way.
Maybe you already do. I think I was Steve yesterday but all I really know is that I am right now. Maybe I’ll be someone else tomorrow, so it doesn’t matter how much wine I drink, someone else will have a hangover. Pity the bottle’s empty. 😄
LikeLiked by 2 people
I have another, just here beside me, person who used to be Steve. Here’s to random identities and a good story (whoever writes it for us).
LikeLiked by 1 person
My fave line: I met a monster made of mirrors…
LikeLiked by 1 person
Worse than Frankenstein’s, and possibly a bit of personal reality there. Fortunately there are plenty of people in the world who are not only perfect, but happy to tell you about it. 😄 Thanks, Caroline.
LikeLike
ahahah So many images and yet my mind seems stuck on cucumber and peanut butter! Perhaps it’s because I have not had breakfast yet. Steve, you make it easy to drift into fantasy and play in the mind. Thanks for taking us on your trips ahahah. What fun!
LikeLiked by 1 person
You’re not the only one. I saw them in the refrigerator when I wrote this piece and somehow they appeared. You’re very welcome, Tamaya, glad you could make the trip. 😃
LikeLiked by 1 person
Probabalistic? I happen to have a cuke. Think I’ll try a PB & C sandwich for lunch. Is there really such a thing as fire lilies? I love “the buds of nascent universes blossoming.” Nothing like reading one of your fantasies at 1am in the morning, Steve. I hope I dream of fire lilies when I get to sleep. No yapping dogs thanks.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Weather always seems to be statistical these days: 30% chance of an afternoon shower or whatever, so yes, probabilistic raindrops. 😃 Good luck with that sandwich; I wasn’t brave enough to experiment.
There are seeds that only germinate in fires, and there are some that float a bit like parachutes, but unfortunately I’ve only seen fire lilies in my mind. You will probably have to visit another universe to find them. Thank you, BG, hope you had sweet dreams and no barking dogs. 😃
LikeLiked by 1 person
There’s always a reminder to put the rubbish out. I’ll think a little differently about it this week.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well that can’t be a bad thing, Paul. Actually, that came from a discussion at a mindfulness meditation group I was attending. One person, a lawyer actually, said that putting the rubbish out just kind of irked him. I get it, but one can ask what lies behind that, and is it the delusion of pride? In any case, it’s something to think about while you’re putting the damn rubbish out. 😄
LikeLiked by 1 person
You surpass yourself here Steve.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Margaret. That’s good to hear, I’d like to think I’m going somewhere, doesn’t really matter where it is.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Mmmm…peanut butter. I definitely wouldn’t ruin a delicious peanut butter sandwich by putting cucumbers in it.
I chuckled at your reference to speaking English. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
And that’s why this isn’t a recipe site, Magarisa.😃 Although in fact, I do have a couple of special recipes I invented when there was almost nothing to eat in the house. One is yoghurt and potato crisps. Admittedly it isn’t for everyone. 😄 With the English, I think it’s best to be logical, even when it makes no sense at all.
LikeLiked by 1 person
a new favorite line here for me – the proximity of words. I wonder how different it would be if we get to choose our names after a certain age and what would be the right age for that?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Gina. Measures of “distance” are vital for us, I think our minds are made to assume a connection when events are “close” in any sense, even in the representational worlds: fiction and media. I guess it makes sense, mostly there is a connection; even when a thought has seemingly appeared out of nowhere, there is usually a reason.
About our names, I don’t really know, but I imagine there would be complications because our names are so important to us early on, I think well before we could make a reasoned choice.
LikeLiked by 1 person
our subconscious is so powerful, those connections are repressed feelings I believe and something sparks at the right time to reignite the thoughts. We are connected more than we realise, at some point in time we were all swimming in the same thought pool.
our names are then what our parents want us to be, or whoever named us. but are we really those souls?
LikeLiked by 1 person
I agree, so much hidden and waiting for a spark.
I think our names are just one part of the indelible influence of our parents: nature and nurture, a complicated question. For people who don’t match their name, I guess they have the option to make a change.
LikeLike