On the train ride home last night.

Reading Plexus. Knocked off chapter 5- hell of a thing- and had to sit back. Take it all in sort of speaking while looking out the window. Then, staring at my reflection, I noticed my right eye- looked pitch black in the LIRR plastic paned reflection and I started playing a game. Seeing how long I could focus on just my eye, just that right one. I started with a 50 count, but couldn’t get past 25. 2nd time around, I made it to 30. 4th time 14, getting frustrated but curious at the same time I pushed on- 6, 7, 8, times and then finally, with magic number 9, I stumbled into an intense state of focus. Not only could I concentrate on that dark as winter night eye with no street lamps on country back roads black eye, but without conscious effort, say, easy as Spanish maids parting curtains, I saw through all that black (and I’ve heard talk about things like ‘the secret heart carried inside of each man’, also ‘the Third Eye that penetrates’, but never before about the ‘Secret Eyes’, the ones concealed behind all that pupil and iris plus neural wiring business) and a mouth opened up in that Black Stone of the Kaaba, well cut onyx, mined obsidian orb of an eye and it told me, ‘You’re going to be famous.’ It came with a twitch of an eyelid, a rise in heart rate; I started sweating around the armpits…and then, from chest, left side- of course- an even louder voice, ‘Get up! Runaway! And, whatever you do, don’t listen. Not yet.’ I jumped from the seat. I still had ten minutes before my stop but motion is motion, especially when dictated by furtive organs, things that develop inside of you without warning and speak up with Roman Dictator like authority…down the aisle, past old legs, shopping bags, briefcases, shoelaces, still far from my stop, all that interior chatter muted by the remote control of some Big Force, still shaken up, I stood by the exit doors, avoiding anything reflective.