Jeu De Paume, Anyone? Ii - Poem by Morgan Michaels
'I didn't think you went in for that celebrity thing, ' I teased.
'I don't. TV, Hollywood, pop culture, celebrities, foolish, expensive, American distractions to save them from thinking- yuck! I just mention it, that's all.'
We agreed to meet at 3. I'm not sure how Diotima got there, but I took a cab- the trains are risky, now, after midnight.Insomnia, often a self-fulfilling prophecy, in this case, was. Suddenly, I was wide awake. It reminded me of club days. From the parking lot cab-drop, I expected to hear something like battlefield clamor. Why? Where do I get these ideas- expecting war all the time? It was quiet, except for the thudrumblecrash of the game itself- no screaming, no sobbing, no explosion, no blood- a false alarm, altogether. In fact, the place was pretty empty, but big as an airplane hanger. You have heard the expression 'miles of aisles? ' Had the cups contained high balls instead of bottled water, it could have been 1962. There might even have been an early Beatles song on the PA, but there wasn't. People actually smoked!
Several of the fifty or so lanes were in use. It felt like my first time in a bowling alley, and like I'd awakened after napping fifty years.
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