I Am Pleased to Introduce My Brand: A Prose Poem

Sometimes you can help someone else through with a fake ritual in which you pluck at the air around them until they feel revived. The final step, though, is yours alone. You may discover that no one appreciates the grace of a skateboarder quite like you do. That your secret desire is to appear in a poster in the subway wearing green sequined underpants and own it. We all need time alone before returning to the marketplace with words and gestures that others mirror back to us. Some need more time than others, which is both blessing and curse. Think Spiderman. Witch of Blackbird Pond.  Most things happen at dusk. Sometimes the trees will draw you up a hill, particles slowing then turning counter-clockwise. One. Two. Three. When you let the drawing happen, there’s your brand right there. Literal woods. Literal dusk. A voice in your head like from a creepy ‘70s movie about kids who might be possessed or maybe were born that way. La-la-la-la . . . . laa . . . laaa.