Website design By BotEap.comSomeone showed me a horde of dots– (My mind was going back and forth, I looked at them and saw a wall, and there were a lot of them missing: dots that were supposed to be in those holes: holes with no dots in the wall)) sky dot possibly))–but they never caved in on me. Then I started thinking about points. Countless dots on that wall seemed to me, in fact too many for me to count with a round of applause, I said, “What are all these dots for?” something said in my mind: “One is you…”

Website design By BotEap.comI said: “You mean: one is for me?”

Website design By BotEap.comAnd the voice said: “No, one is you!”

Website design By BotEap.comIt’s not good when your second self dominates your real self, and I confirmed, “Okay, do it your way.” (I guess being a dot, a blob, a dot, or a blob isn’t that bad, especially if you don’t know it.)

Website design By BotEap.comI felt like right now, I felt like maybe I’d like to be “Your point!” (one among many) then I looked around, where I was sitting, in the airport (my wife had gone somewhere for the moment): a man was tapping, or maybe I could call him shaking his legs, feet, nervous, no music, just breathy; a woman was eating French fries of some kind, I think I look for a moment at her fingers next to her mouth, without knowing why, some kind of pacifier. I bet they’d like to be “Your Point”, maybe like me, so I thought to myself. But somehow, if I wanted to be “Your point”, I would be, so I said to myself again: you’re wrong. So that ended that train of thought.

Website design By BotEap.comThis little dot just got on the plane, they gave me first class, what a “dotty thing to do”, CUP [Airlines] Thank you. Maybe they mistook this point for another point, sometimes they do, but I’ll sit this little point and pretend to be a big point for a while, until they figure it out, if ever.

Website design By BotEap.comNow I wonder: First Class can get to you, it’s like a drug, you get used to it and you can’t live without it. Like heroin: three tries and you’re there, so I might as well turn down my next first-class fixes if they give it to me again, but that would be silly, I know, even my envious. the second self admits that: therefore, I will cross that bridge if I ever reach it.

Website design By BotEap.comWe are now in the Lima terminal, and there are four planes full of dots racing towards the immigration lines, and this dot is slow, too slow to keep up with all those young limbs dangling here and there (everywhere). parts, in all directions), in the Lima Air (I’ll have to use some other strategy), so guess what, I just stopped, I’m in the middle of the dots, I’m way above the heads of the dots (balls of bowling, they all look like bowling balls about to fall out of their skinny fur collars: mine grows old and fat, it won’t fall again); I’m so far back I can’t even see the lines. But this point wasn’t born yesterday, so I asked my wife to go talk to the point walking around with a uniform on, and she had to be in the front, in row one. How did you make this point? Oh no, I’m sure all the bowling ball dots would like to have that answer too, no way.

Website design By BotEap.comNow it’s the morning of May 26, 2006, and this point feels poetic, and he needs to finish this kind of narrated poem: so I’ll be a philosophical point for a moment, as I get out of bed and write what he’s filled my head: life is not a game, but a test of where we will do better (not all the points I notice will fit on the tall thick wall I saw; I don’t wish to be either, I guess, so I’m sure they will have their wish); for me, i want to be molded to fit in, i never did here. And if I happen to fall off that wall of dots in the road (similar to the empty holes I saw yesterday) maybe God will find me: put me back inside for eternity.

Website design By BotEap.comNote: Written at the airport, in Panama, on the plane that was flying over Colombia, and on the morning of 05/26/2006, in Lima, Peru. #1361