When you see the angel in the corner of the room, what is the first thing that occurs to you to say? When you think you can discern the shape of her wings from the gray of pre-dawn shadow, do you trust your vision, or dismiss it as a trick of light? After sunrise banishes mystery, what will you remember?
Why is it that life is but a dream?
When did the clock wind down? Where did its shuddering hands finally come to rest? What precisely were we trying to measure? Did we achieve it? Where do the memories go now?
How can one so easily forget the taste of happiness?
What do you remember of winter? When did you first read the book of your palms? Why are the lines always changing? Have they revised the alphabet? Did I not receive the memo?
What happened to that dream you had when you were nine years old? Is it still alive, a faint pulse, in the back of the closet, or tucked away in the basement of your childhood home? Does it roam the streets at dusk like a lost dog, searching for you?
Why haven’t you cleaned up your room?
What is the scent of 3 p.m.? Why does light filtering through an afternoon window remind us of the ache of childhood? When was the last time you dozed in a pool of pale sunlight? What is the color inside your eyelids? Do you suppose we see the same hue?
Where do we go when we dream? What map will take us back? Where does the freeway end? Whose job is it to unlock the gate? What happens if they forget? If they lose the keys?
When was the last time you felt happy? Could you feel it in your toes? Did anyone notice? How did the sky appear then? Did you happen to look at the clock? Did you get in trouble?
When did the clock speed up? Am I getting enough sleep? What do the shadows beneath my eyes portend? When you look into my eyes do you see past or future? Can you tell the difference?
If I write it all down will I be able to keep it forever, or will it change the experience irretrievably? Do you have a pen? What happens to all those scraps of paper on which I’ve attempted to capture the ephemeral? How do I revise the transitory?
If letting go is the path to happiness, how does one let go of sunlight? What happens if I fly too close? What happens if I stare directly into its blaze? Why does the sun make me feel so much happier? Can one cling to something one cannot hold?
Where do the angels let go in winter?
If x = y, why am I so afraid? Have you felt the scrape of February on your skin? Where is the shelter for lost dogs? Did I forget to close the gate? Or is it a portal?
For how long will it be 3 p.m.? And in what world? Does the clock move faster in some worlds than in others? In which realm is time most kind?
How can I let go the way your eyes have looked at me, the way a child regards an angel who has entered her bedroom like a twilit dream?