we're minds on brain-stems, he whispered.
alice exhaled a soft burst of throat-sculpted air.
that's how i see things, really. minds suspended above the surface of
earth -- birdhouses on tall poles that walk -- flutter of finches &
fluff in a dark tiny room above the ground -- the human mind as the
flower on the kinetically-induced stalk. point in space surrounded by a
ball of bone.
he knew exactly what he meant.
alice loved him. she felt her face glowing, & reached to touch his arm.
the layer of minds -- don't you see it? that layered suspension -- not
that minds aren't ever leveled & pressed by gravity to the ground -- but
like on a busy street, remove all peoples' bodies & it's like lights,
like the curving space-net & flashes within, like a bunch of flitting
angels!
yes honey, i see that. alice felt itchy for sex & orgasm.
lights of lives swarm over our spinning planet like electric mist,
swirls, under the clouds -- carl sagan loved marijuana, by the way.
uh huh. are you sleepy? alice asked as she cuddled his head under her
neck. she rubbed his old hair, scratched slow.
that feels delicious, he quietly sd.
ron androla
we're minds on brain-stems, he whispered.