In the back of a station wagon, he spent a childhood, beltless and bumpy. He leapt from stairs, disappeared into orange shag, never got a haircut, sat on a car roof, Mary Poppins and Herbie flickering far from somewhere. Kasey Kasem counted down endlessly and once, for certain, he’d heard his name as a long distance dedication. John Stewart sang “Gold” for him, and he imagined singers in the passenger seat, hoarse and dreaming of elsewhere. His heart held weakness since birth. He once dreamed of enchiladas before he knew they existed. When he had earaches, and his mother rocked him on the green La-Z-Boy, she told him something happened to lonely kids when they grew into people.
Randall Brown serves as the Director of the MFA in Creative Writing Program at Rosemont College. He is the author of the award-winning collection Mad to Live (Flume Press, 2008) and his essay on (very) short fiction can be found in The Rose Metal Press Field Guide to Writing Flash Fiction: Tips from Editors, Teachers, and Writers in the Field. He has been published widely, both on line and in print.
Ah, to dream of enchiladas...great piece!ReplyDelete
Yeh that enchilada dream was kinda wicked.ReplyDelete