Searching for my lost shaker of salt...

Have you ever dreamt of that giant shaker filled with writhing infants? Three stories tall, or more, stuffed to the top with muffled screams and half-bald soft-skulled humans dripping in brown slime...do you know it?  It haunts me constantly, both when my eyes are open and when they are closed.  It haunts me as I blink.  I can never see where it sits.  Perhaps it is floating in space.  I have seen it turned upside down by who-knows-who, shaking up and down in a horrible arc that covers the face of the moon.  Babies tumble out in a cloud…like wingless bees thrown free from their nest by a half-benevolent god.  What a sight.  

The view from Annapolis

Through the terminal window I watched angels sucking jet fuel from stationary planes through gilded straws.  Gracefully, these giant ghosts knelt down and shepherded planes from the air onto the tarmac on flawless olive palms.  Their bearded faces were obscured by clouds.  As I boarded my plane, I watched an angel pluck a harp with strings of fire in my mind’s eye.  I imagined myself to be a giant crater filled with lava where tired angels are melted into nothing.  So long angels!  That’s what I said.