Take me, I am the drug known to trigger the disintegration of the persistence of memory, (elephants that cause such pain). I will plunge even your dreams into new sleep oceans, such a soft construction with boiled beans, perhaps featuring a landscape of butterflies, or a swallow’s tail flitting over frothing waves before the accommodations of desire provoke ingestion of a second dose to down with your basket of bread. I promise to subdue your paranoiac critical solitude in a single outing at the triangular hour, that your memory of the child woman will slip away as a mere morphological echo.
Pamela Hobart Carter loves Seattle as much for its water and mountains as for its bustle and creativity. She explores the Emerald City daily while walking her dog. Carter used to be a teacher who wrote on the side. Now she is a writer who teaches on the side.