COLUMBUS'S WET DREAM
Joshua Jennings Wood
I wear the finest fabrics crafted in China, Indonesia.
I try to eat right.
I wipe beads of steam from my mirror in the morning.
I ride something to work—something mechanical.
I plan on throwing it away.
I need to look at my schedule.
I know what you're going to say.
I had it removed.
I think I want some more.
I couldn't remember if I tried.
I don't think I have time.
I felt like something new.
I might sign myself up for one of those groups, at least get on a list.
I can't say what this means to me.
I have to find a little more me time.
I hate this show.
I could lose myself in here.
I fail to see how it affects me.
I guess I don’t know my limits.
I just can't finish this.
This piece began with the first line. (Ha, that sounds stupid.) Don't know what else to say except I like the idea of Columbus coming across the Atlantic, dreaming of 21st century U.S.A with our skyscrapers and drycleaners, fast food and freeways, then waking up and saying, "My God, what was that?!"