Thursday, October 27, 2011

Pamela At The Doorway To Atlantis

Without getting up, Pam said, “I’m going to grab
a can of Red Bull. You want to split it with me?”

I said, “Okay. I’ve got paper cups over here.”

I looked at the doorway between the living room
and the kitchen. Pam looked at me, saw me staring
and she asked, “What the heck are you thinking about?”

I pointed and said, “I’m thinking about doorways.
Doorways are passages between rooms. But what if,
in an alchemical way, a transforming way,
the exact same doorways sometimes, somehow, could be
passages between worlds? I mean, when you walk through
that doorway you travel out of the living room
and into the kitchen. What if one magic time
you were thinking about, maybe, say, Atlantis,
and you were thinking about Atlantis just right
and instead of traveling into the kitchen
that doorway was a passage from the living room
to a wild exterior, you know, Atlantis?”

Pam made a face. It was a face I’d seen before.
She said, “I’m going to grab a can of Red Bull.
From the kitchen. The kitchen right through that doorway.”

Pam stood up and walked to the doorway. Then she stopped.

Pam made a face. It was a different face, but
I’d seen this face before, too. She turned, glared at me.
She said, “I can’t believe I stopped! I can’t believe
I actually stopped to think about stepping
through this doorway. I mean, the kitchen is right there!
I can see it!” She pointed. “It’s not Atlantis.
Why did I stop? I’m getting a can of Red Bull.”

Pam stepped through the doorway out of the living room.

From the kitchen, Pam yelled, “I’m not in Atlantis.
I’m in the kitchen getting a can of Red Bull.”

I grabbed a couple of paper cups just in case
Pam’s trip back through the doorway also went as planned.

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