Dreamscape America

I awaken, cycling in the foundations of the day and taking in the landscape of the structure that surrounds me. He is not here, so I transverse down our narrow hallway to greet our juniors. A smile. The sight of their jovially clad exteriors births me back into my body. I unlatch my arms from my sides and invite them to join me in a nurturing embrace and then, I release them to go and play. A sigh. To be close — everyone is so close, so similar, nowadays.

Were we ever truly close or merely inevitably adjacent? My brain loops over this often, we're living nearly completely separate lives. "Where have you been?" Here. "I like how you have been renewed." A gaze in my direction. A ping of desire. A tongue and then a laugh. "You look like a fraud." I open up. Give it up. He is proud of me. He is.

I take pride in my windows, the frame of our breed. Here you can see a nice picture of nice things. I bot about like a girl, noticing not what I must implore, but what must be stored. "Don't let them in, this is our home" Our home. He speaks. I sway. It is nice of him to think of me this way.

I serve. A game. We'll watch the picture. We see the self to sleep. Babies are safe. Babies are comfortable. May they never need worry like we do. It's an ugly disposition to consume. A scream into the datascape. I, not so young as I once was, living inside these synthetic walls that will surely become expired. We are satisfied with this. Dropping the shawl, eliminating us all. I question if I am indeed a fraud.

"Sweetheart…" he utters my name softly. I wait in anxiousness for what might follow.