Phantasmagoria


1.

The haunted bathtubs of suburbia,
on their last legs. Fourteen brothers, all
the same age, sharing the same office.

2.

Unslapped figs somehow taste
better, she thought, moving from sentence
to sentence through the most

3.

Extravagent permutations. The trees'
branches, unashamed yet
reticent.




The Vanity of Purely Random Taxis


She came upon a sudden expectation that at every corner
there would be taxis, their drivers looking to her expectantly,
waving her in. And she would nod "No" in a smiling sort
of way, knowing that it wouldn't be far to the next corner.

And so, for the first time in her life, she really took to walking,
sauntering even, along the avenues and crosstown streets,
taking her time at the windows of stores, stepping, once in a while,
inside--to jot down a price or try something on.

Halfway down a canyon between the avenues, she dropped in
to a coffee shop (something classical on the Muzak), found
a server attentive to her wish for a small cappucino. A half hour
later, she paid and departed, finding a taxi just outside

the door, waiting--as though she might want or need it. Her walk
home was a pleasure, knowing that, at any moment, she could step
into a cab. From her window, she saw them circling down below.
And she soon drifted off to sleep, lulled by their gentle, yellow honking.


- Halvard Johnson