home | | | | | |archive | | | | | |profile | | | | | |notes | | | | | |previous | | | | | |next

life line

I'm building a phone for Selena. A biological phone--like something from a Cronenberg film. The case is composed of flesh I salvaged from half-invisible creatures I killed in stairwells of a recent dream. The buttons are made from yellowed teeth. The screen is a dim green storm of binary code. The antenna is a pink, fleshy stalk. The phone respires. It wheezes. It perspires. It slithers over the furniture and leaves a dark green trail smelling of rotted vegetation. The phone survives on a diet of voices and is recharged in an overnight bath of black soda. I am still fine-tuning the phone's circuitry and genetics. Another trip to Radio Shack. Another expedition to the basements of the Lawrence Livermore Laboratory. Soon I will switch it to coma mode, put it on ice, and ship it overnight to Virginia.

Selena, don't use any sharp objects to open the box. And leave lots of newspaper on the floor.

previous | next