All I Ever Dreamed by Michael Blumlein

Author:Michael Blumlein
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Valancourt Books
Published: 2018-05-15T16:00:00+00:00

KNOW HOW, CAN DO

Am Adam. At last can talk. Grand day!

Am happy, happy as a clam. What’s a clam? Happy as a panda, say, happy as a lark. And an aardvark. Happy and glad as all that.

Past days, talk was far away. Adam had gaps. Vast gaps. At chat Adam was a laggard, a sadsack, a nada.

Adam’s lamp was dark. Adam’s land was flat.

Fact was, Adam wasn’t a mammal.

Was Adam sad? Naw. Was Adam mad? What crap. Adam can crawl and thrash and grab and attach. Adam had a map, a way. Adam’s way. Adam’s path.

Adam was small. Hardly a gnat. Adam was dark. Adam was fat. A fat crawly.

What Adam wasn’t was smart.

Pangs at that? At what Adam wasn’t?

That’s crazy.

A hawk lacks arms. A jackal lacks a knapsack. Santa hasn’t any fangs. And chalk hasn’t any black.

Wants carry a pall. Pangs can hang a man. Wants and pangs can wrap a hangman’s hard cravat.

What wasn’t wasn’t. Adam, frankly, was many ways a blank. Any plan at all was far away, dark, and way abstract.

Gladly, that’s past. Talk swarms. Awkwardly? What harm at that? Anarchy? Hah! Talk sashays and attacks.

Adam says thanks. Adam says, crazy, man! What a day! Had Adam arms, Adam claps.

Mañana Adam may stand tall. May stand and walk and swag. Carry a fan. Crash a car. Stack bags and hang a lamp.

Mañana’s a grab bag. Adam may wax vast and happy. Pray at altars. Play at anagrams. Bash a wall. Mañana Adam may talk fast.

Fantasy? Can’t say that. A stab at man’s way, man’s strata—that’s Adam’s mantra. Adam’s chant.

Call Adam crazy. Call Adam brash.

Mañana Adam may catch a star.

A martyr?

Adam can adapt.

I am Adam. Finally, I can say that. I can say it right. What a thrill! And what a climb! Again I cry thanks (and always will).

What can I say in a way that brings insight, that sails in air, that sings? I’ll start with my past: simply said, I was a lab animal. A lab animal in a trial. This trial was a stab at attaining a paradigm shift. A stab at faith. My brain was small. (Was it, in fact, a brain at all?). My mind was dim. (“Dim” hardly says what it was.) In a big way, I was insignificant.

Pair that against what I am this day. I’m a man. Part man, anyway. I’m still part animal. A small, flat, tiny animal, a thing that can fit in a vial, a jar. A lady that I talk with calls this thing that I am rhabditis. I say I’m Adam.

—Is that a fact? says this lady.

I say I think it is.

—Adam was a man with a thirst.

—What kind? I ask.

—A mighty thirst, lacking limit.

—This was a flaw?

—A flaw and a gift. Filling his mind was Adam’s wish. His primary aim. It was, in fact, a craving.

—Filling it with what?

—Facts. Data. Carnal acts. Light. Filling it with anything. With all things.

—I want that.

This lady’s mind, as rapid as rain, trills happily.—I’m glad. That was my wish in this.

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