Delusion is a wild flight, not the kind the hawk takes, effortless and smooth, but a crash and burn flight like a training plane downed in the dunes. If you want to see anything, look up at the avian world where hawks, crows, pigeons, sparrow, and gulls fly. You can stay away for hours. Or you can plummet down into the darkness of closed window, drawn shade, the unmade bed, the smell of stale bodies in the sheets, the lamps that don't work, the desk crammed with paper. Without Memory I want to go to a place that has no memory.
Water has no memory, neither does light.
Water in my hands, pure, fresh. No tortured nightmares. A day that burns clear as the fire of a candle. I want memories to drip off me and run away down the drains. I hold a cuplet of water in my palm, watch the wind ruffle its surface, undisturbed by dreams.