PART 37

Do you really think that they will have a pill for everything in the future? One to effect your dreams. One to cure writer’s block. One to turn love into disdain. One to give you good taste in clothing. One to help you understand James Joyce. One to disappear?  One to reappear?

If so; I hope I’m alive to see it. I’d wake up in the late afternoon and take the pill that makes me limber. I’d stretch my old bones as the sun set around me. I’d dress in black and take the pill that gave me night vision. I’d prowl the streets. Hid in corners. Walk closely behind people and make them think they took the pill that helps you believe in ghosts. I’d pop another one and climb the side of buildings. I would be weightless and smiling. I’d float over rooftops. I’d kick old abandoned satellite dishes across the skyline. They would land in manicured yards miles away. A man in his robe and slippers would walk outside and stare at the little contraption. He would pop a pill and walk back inside. I would land on water with a handful left of the tiny capsules. I would shoot fire across the surface and stare at my reflection. I’d look like an old monster without a home. I wouldn’t know myself. I’d drop my pills and watch them sink and float away. I would miss them. And then I would sink. And nothing would be left to save me. And I would tear and fade like an old map without purpose. I’d never be seen again. And no one would be surprised.