last night i dreamed that i was in a strange roadside diner that was basically a mobile home. there was an east indian woman there with her three children and she was looking very sad and desperate. i started to talk to her but she was reluctant, so instead i focused on the children. the boy was about ten, the girl about seven, and the little girl was maybe two. we were sipping sodas and laughing and making faces. i realized i had to get going and was saying goodbye just as two east indian men came into the diner, angry at the mother for something. the children's faces went dark and forlorn. i was reluctant to leave but felt pressed for time - i was driving my van to pick some people up and was going to be late. i felt bad about leaving because an argument was breaking out but i didn't understand the language it was happening in. i walked out of the diner and got into my van, just as the two men came out, one of them holding the infant girl, both of them yelling, and the mother following behind, sobbing and pleading. the two other children emerged just as i was starting the engine and the boy came running to my window. "please take us with you," he said, "please. we can't stay this way." i looked over at the argument - the men each had a hand on the baby girl and were playing a kind of tug-of-war with her; the seven year old girl was climbing into the passenger seat. "i don't know, what about your mother?" i asked. "never mind her," the boy said, angrily, "she isn't good for anything, she neglects us for them," he motioned at the two men. "why are they fighting?" i asked. "they both think they are the baby's father," he replied, "but mother knows that neither of them are." i nodded slowly. the seven year old looked stoically ahead as though simply waiting for me to take them away. i thought for a moment and said to the boy, "okay. get the baby. we will go." he nodded back at me and calmly turned and approached the arguing adults, asking to hold his sister. none of them knew what we'd planned, of course, and were happy to have someone else take responsibility for the crying child while they continued to yell at each other. the boy slowly walked to the van and climbed in to the backseat, holding the baby, who was still crying. i backed out of my parking spot and started to just calmly drive away, the gravel griding under my tires, and the vision of the mother and two men arguing growing smaller in my rearview mirror. only when we'd turned a corner and they were completely out of sight did the seven year old girl climb into the backseat and burst into tears while her older brother held both her and the baby tightly. the boy's face remained blank and dark, he looked out the front window at night falling as i drove them away, not knowing anything about where i'd take them or what i'd do with them; only that i had to rescue them. i didn't even know their names.

2003

i made you something from nothing
i pressed ones and zeroes together
and i used crackling light for glue
everything i made up about you is true

when i live for nothing, it becomes something
and while i live, the air turns blue
you'll never give up what i want you to
everything i made up about you is true.

i wish i was invisible so
you could touch me
and no one would know

~brautigan

leaves thinner than window panes
flicker precariously
on the tip-ends of bleached twigs
each wondering
why life betrayed them
when they did every bit of their parts.
and the stem that held them secure
dries up and blooms a smooth,
dark, hollow
and edges lift, answering:
life is no betrayal, children -
the winter wind must begin her work.

i was in japan with my kids, staying with j in top three floors of a swanky hotel. the entire building was glass and metal, affording us this spectacular view of the city, the sea, other smaller islands on the sea, and mountains in the distance. j.'s son was there, a man just a little younger than me; both of them were tall, dark, gorgeous. i was there in a capacity that included very good friend with benefits (for both j and his son), cook, and support for j's older parents. we were having a fine old time. i was dressing up every day, taking time on my hair and make-up. my kids had free run of the hotel, pretty much; down to the arcade with games you've never seen before, elaborate and jangly; through the restaurants shoving balls of sushi rice into their mouths; playing in the elevators until stiff-collared crusty old japanese business men cussed them out, language barriers be damned. j. was so relaxed, more relaxed than i'd ever seen him, and it added to his charm that he didn't get jealous or angry when his eyes fell on my hand entwined with his son's, or our mouths moving against one another's ears, laughing with our foreheads pressed together. when j. wanted me he would either come to my room in the night after the children (mine and his!) were asleep or at least behind closed doors; or else simply wait until the furor in the hotel suites had calmed down in the mid-afternoon, and pull me over to him while he was seated gazing out the 15 foot high windows or while he was playing on the glossy dark piano. he liked it when he was sitting to have me straddle him. he would put his hands all over me. he would smile a smile so large as my face lowered towards his for kisses. he was so pleased with himself and our situation it seemed to me he was going around drugged. blissed out. i felt much the same. we both wore white or creamy white, every day. i had large golden bangles and when i applied red lipstick to my mouth, looking in the mirror, i saw that my hair was long and blonde again, and my body was as it is now.

one afternoon i went scouting for the children in the hotel arcade, through the zinging and pinging and blasting and loud music and teenagers. a young boy, perhaps a little younger than my own son, was sitting on a motorcycle game talking into a cell phone. as i passed, his conversation was over suddenly, and he leapt off the motorcycle and started running frantically out of the arcade, leaving an enormous amount of change behind on the machine. i shouted after him, "wait! you've forgotten your money!" when he turned around and yelled back, "nevermind about the money! we are supposed to go back to our rooms, now! emergency!" and he tore ass out of there, legs flying, pushing people out of his way. amused, i scooped up all the coins he'd left behind, probably a hundred dollars worth, and shoved it all in my pocket, weighing me down, making me jangly, and continued looking for my kids. just as i found them (on a dance, dance revolution-type machine) it seemed everyone in the arcade had gotten the same kind of phone call as that original kid, and everyone was suddenly clamouring to be let out of the arcade, pushing each other side, shouting, jamming up at the doors. i gathered the kids to me and remembered a service exit i'd seen on the way in and started walking as quickly as i could there, looking nonchalant, before everyone else noticed me and swarmed that way out, too. i pushed on the metal bar of the door and made my exit quickly and smoothly. my pockets were still jangling. the kids asked what was going on and i replied that i wasn't sure, but that if we made our way back to the hotel suites, j. would be able to tell us. the issue now was finding our way around in this white tile maze of back hallways in the hotel. i opened door after door trying to get my bearings or find an elevator and finally we came upon the indoor pool and i knew how to find my way out from there. i pulled the children alongside me through the women's change room, which was empty and filled with the sounds of showers dripping. it was clear the area had been abandoned as quickly as the arcade was - towels, shoes, bags of clothes were left behind, dotting the benches and dangling from half-open lockers. i began to get very alarmed at that point and made my way quickly to the exit into the hotel lobby, which was pandemonium.


in the loud throngs of people i had to pick both children up in my arms and carry them or they would have been lost to me. i tried to make out what people were shouting but it was all in japanese, which added to my own feelings of fear and panic. there was a huge storm of people fighting to get at the elevators and police officers waving them away, pushing them back, wearing helmets and weilding batons, their face shields steaming up with exertion and spittle. laurel had her hands around my neck, liam was wide-eyed and unsettled. i started shouting back at the police officers, "Please let us past, my husband is J! We have to the top three floors. Please let us pass!" but they were not listening to me, they just shook their heads and pushed us back. I felt tears rise in my eyes at the thought of climbing over 35 stories with the children in tow. all for unknown reasons. As I turned away from the elevators and scanned the lobby for the door to the stairway, J's hand fell on my shoulder and he pushed us foreward, foreward, foreward, waving some kind of plastic card in the face of the police officers, who let us pass and get into the open elevator doors. he was still smiling as he always was, calm and slightly bemused by everything.

"j, what is going on?" i demanded. he could see i was near tears and enfolded me in his arms. "it's okay, christa," he said, calmly, "they're asking us to retire to our suites, there's a hurricane coming in."

my throat closed up. "a hurricane? and they want us to go to the 37th floor when they are expecting a hurricane?" i clutched the children even more closely and said, "how can that possibly make any sense?"

j shrugged. "they told me that hurricanes are common here, and they designed this building to withstand them. they say this is the third one this season and it's smaller than the others were. we should be fine."

"but it's all glass! all of it! the whole building!"

the elevator was moving up quickly, faster than elevators in north america go, the lighted numbers flickering so quickly it was more of a blur on the panel. "I know it," he replied, looking up at the numbers, "but they assure me, and i assure you, and everything will be alright, doll. i promise."

i swallowed hard and tried to relax. finally our elevator reached the first floor of our suites and opened directly onto our palour, where j's son and aged parents were already waiting. the windows, 15 feet high, offered a panoramic view out to the ocean, and i could see that the sky was already bruised, dark, and shot through will sickly yellows. j went immediately into the bar/kitchen area and started mixing everyone drinks. his son came near me, put his arms around me and kissed my ear, whispering, "i was very concerned about you. where were you?" i shrugged and looked up into his dark brown eyes. "i had to find the kids. they were in the arcade."

in time we were all seated. i had to resist the urge to cover myself and the children with everything soft i could find. pillows, blankets, mattresses. the sky outside was roiling, blinkering, rushing past at incognizable speeds, and the wind was picking up even further. i had the kids with me on a plush white loveseat, clutching laurel to my chest, trying to control my breathing. j was on the larger sofa, reclining, with his grown son laying next to him on it, each of them propped up on their elbows, sipping at their highballs. j's parents were in seperate armchairs. his father was eating peanuts, his mother was watching the sky as i was, trying to subtley wring her hands. the roar of the wind became almost unbearable and i finally closed my eyes as the building began to shudder. j shouted at me from across the room but i couldn't make out what he was saying. laurel was crying, liam was pressing harder and harder into me. j kept shouting and i finally made out some of the words, "look! look! it's.....amazing! christa!" and i pried my eyes open and the sight beyond the glass of the walls was enormous and terrifying and beautiful. the sky was moving past at a speed that was incomprehensible to anyone who hadn't seen it - it looked like speeded up time lapse photography, where the god above had seen to mix with clouds up with a stir stick, a barista in the starbucks of heaven, swirling mocha syrup through the foam of our atmosphere, faster and faster, assembly line fast. i looked around the room and saw that everyone, everyone, was yelling at the top of their longs, trying to shout down the storm, and i opened my mouth and throat to do the same finding that i did not have to force my voice to work, as the air pressure instead drew it out, and still, the decible levels of the storm were such that i felt mute.

the moment stretched on for a period of time that was unbearable. i felt that my mouth would never shut, the yelling would never stop, my daughter's fingernails would never be pried from my collarbone, my son would never find security in any place other than glued to my hip, clutching at my one free hand, that j and his son would forever be clutching at one another on the expensive white sofa, that his parents would never be without mouths full of liquor and peanuts. we were frozen in time, frozen to our seats, frozen in fear and awe of the sheer power of the storm.

but it finally passed. yes, it passed. the sky cleared to impossible blue. the sea fell to liquid calm, sloshing against the shore playfully, blue and not black, roiling white caps soothed to bubbled foam.

and everyone relaxed and drinks were drank, and people peeled themselves off their seats, and wandered around shellshocked for while. j's mother hovered near the telephone, asking, "is anyone hungry? shall i call for food?" my daughter wouldn't let me out of her immediate vicinity, clinging to my flowing white pants, stumbling over my clicky golden heels as i backed up and walked forward, wandering around the suites, trying to decide how to contact my mother in canada, to tell her i was fine, that we were fine. surely the phone lines were down after that. surely there was no contact with the outside world. surely this ivory tower was an island in what had to be a sea of desperation and suffering below. it seemed no one was able to talk about it. we moved around the hotel rooms silently until nightfall. j's son announced that he was going out to see what was happening below. the phone was dead and he had a japanese girlfriend that he wanted to check on. he held my jeweled hand for a moment as if he were afraid jealousy would spring into my face, but it did not, and he kissed my fingers one at a time, slowly, admiration and gratitude mingled in his eyes, as he said goodbye. i tucked the children into their beds on the second floor of the suites, and came back into the parlour where j was at the piano again, and his parents were shuffling around in slippers and nightgowns and robes, turning out lights, putting dishes into cupboards. they said goodnight and also retired to their rooms, and left j and i alone.

while he played i stood in front of the windows, gazing long out into the city and sea below us. only patches of city lights were visible in the darkness. some areas had power, like ours. others were completely black. i saw fires, small from my perspective but probably fearsome in person. i saw the flickering red and white lights of firetrucks and other emergency vehicles seeking passage through dark streets, but the sounds of their sirens were lost in the altitude and in the thick panes of glass. the music stopped behind me and i turned around to see j moving to a chaise lounge with a magazine in his hand.

"what'll we do?" i asked, walking towards him. "there's no way we can leave the city now. it'll be days, maybe weeks." he laid back in the cushions and dropped the magazine to the marble floor, extending his hand to me, a thick gold chain sliding down his forearm at the motion. i took it and allowed him to pull me onto the chaise with him.

"what matter is it to us? of what consequence?"

his mouth was soft and only a hint of stubble scratched at my cheeks as we kissed. a roar louder than any hurricane grew in my ears, pierced only by the sound of my golden bangles as i moved my hand to his face, his hair. of what consequence. only everything.

at what pained moment did it happen?
that reversal of polarity?
where magnetic hands, once hanging,
clinging,
every unseen moment they had together
instead found force in resistance
and now private moments
are fueled by repulsion.

i miss the attraction,
but i guess there's no backward action,
and in the infinite universal spiderweb
you are a speck
and i am the flea.
you are a speck
on the back of a flea.

when did the wind change direction?
that billowing sail go limp?
where cross breezes, once upflowed to tornadoes,
whirling,
every grey afternoon yellowed with day dreams
instead lay empty-brained
and now the tempest brews
only in my teapot.

i miss the attraction,
but i guess there's no backward action,
and in the infinite universal spiderweb
you are a speck
and i am the flea.
you are a speck
on the back of a flea.

i dreamed that i was in owen wilson's apartment with him and his girlfriend (who looked like, but wasn't, kirsten dunst). it was the holidays, the place was lit up with xmas lights, and they were drunk and being very silly. at one point owen leaned over to pat my leg and spilled his whiskey all over my dress. i was annoyed but tried to laugh it off. he sloppily tried to clean it up with a kleenex until i pushed him away. then he turned on an overhead projector and my poetry appeared in giant-form on his wall opposite it. the kirsten dunst lookalike started to read it out loud. i was very embarrassed. they didn't laugh or anything but it was excrutiating. she read many many poems out loud with no breaks in between. all i could smell was whiskey and my own shame because i did feel like i was being mocked. finally after a long time they shut the projector off and owen turned to me and said, "42 poems and only 14 mistakes. not bad." i was flushed and looking out the window at snow falling down. owen was still drunk and stupid, and he got in my face and said, "so you're a writer, eh? you're a pretty good writer, there, girly," and then he stood in the middle of the room while his girlfriend laughed and he stretched his arms out, slopping his drink everywhere, and in this annoying sing-songy voice he shouted, "YOU OWE! YOU OWE! YOU OWE US ALL ONE NANOWRIMO!"