contrary

Drugs are cheaper in Mexico, so why not get them there. The population of bees was much more flourishing and honey was more easily obtainable. Pigs walked around as banks and mucho libre masks spoke to me in wavelengths. I pondered whether this was my motherland and how a man becomes a mother to a land, but neither were my suit. It should be noted that I wasn't wearing a suit. Passage over the American barrier provided me with hope of freedom by decapitation, but instead my head was all to aparent to myself as it ached as though a hammer was humping it. Tired of toilet school I wished to return to the land of the free and where everything is for sale. Gravity is much more abundant in the USA as I felt my pockets grow heavy battled by an unquenchable thirst to regurgitate. I had much to answer to as my stomach made a plea to be rid of its hollow state. Pokey's poked a jab at my position to eat Mexican food while being an American. My burrito sat on a plate in front of me and laughed at my ghostly identity, spite through a smile. The house of blues welcomed me with closed arms and spit meant to hug my cheek. My body colided with noise and for a second it was possible that my footsteps contributed to the choatic melody, but then I saw that all such music eminated from the steps of everyone around. I was in a room of participants, those with colorful shells worthy of attentioned and painted with pastly hues. Sonic nurses stepped onto a stage that seemed to apear from nowhere and suddenly all feetly pitter-patter came to a halt. Light rained down for the empty nightly air and new sounds entered my ears: erractic guitar frequences that traded off with howls from other planet's moons. I met the world through sound and a clue for a center sprung up from discord. Melody was being made a mockery of and its torn pedals glowed with truth. I smiled at this hell on earth seeing that God has been defeated by the ugly-beauty. Perfection gave up on its equation and I stood before a Utopia, its leader held out his one of many scrapped swords and it morphed into a grail from which even I had the hunger to drink from. I twiddled its strings for a second before others around me had joined me under the rays and I granted them room. I was in the midst of hunger and a minute passed where I heard my footsteps again despite standing still. The grail went dry, the lights left, and again we were left to make noise of our own. Mine got lost in the midst of others until I returned to that amiguity of whether I made noise or not. Where was a listener? Am I not he? If so, am I enough? Streets drunk with night opened up the misty air to my pasing echo. Someone heard me and looked over. I had woken him from his gutter and he repaid me with a scowl. What have I done? Was I not in Utopia just moments ago? Another passing echo not parallel to my own, but like any line it was infinite and the sound it carried continued on regardless if I could see it or not. My own line was no different. It housed that point of heavenly discord I had encounter and it was still with me. Had Utopia changed its colors? It must have being that I was being confronted by hate from the trodden man. But how can it be hate? How can it be love? How can it be anything if I keep getting in the way? Were there any other lines aside from my own? I hadn't seen Utopia before, how could I, I was there?

"That's how it was anything." A voice said jumping out from nowhere like a jack from his box. The voice was coming from below my knees so my glance traveled downward to my puppet pal, Goofy.

"How can that be," I asked. "Its because I was there that it was nothing."

"And that's how it was something. It wasn't Utopia, but it was, because you were there." The lenght of his smile finite, but its temporality was unending.

I felt warm in the presence of my tiny friend and though there wasn't anybody else around I could feel others. I felt like crying.

"Why?" Goofy asked having read my thoughts.

"Others put points on my line, and some of them I don't want."

"Never look a gift horse in the mouth they say." And though he had not done it , I added one of his famous hyuks at the end of his sentence.

"A witty saying proves nothing; Voltaire."

"Oh yeah, I forgot." His plush white hand meant to be a glove with a single half-circle for fingers, and a thumb.

"She told me to shut up, and everyone in the restuarant was on her side."

"Your birthday still bothers you?"

"Its strangling me, following me everywhere like a bully. She wasn't happy that I was born. My own creator wanted nothing more from me other than silence, to chop off my feet."

"You're walking now."

"Truth has never been a challenge for you."

"Truth? No, its heart."

I stop and look down at my life long friend. Over God, he has been there. I kneel down to meet his black plastic eyes. Frosbite still marked his brown shoes. My mother may have butchered me, worms are clogging Booboo's throat at this moment, but somewhere in life I can feel Goofy breathing.