extract of three dreams

Language Key:
ren = man, woman, person, people
ye = you
'e = she, he, ze, etc.
'eir = their, his, her, etc.
'em = them, him, her, etc.
'uy = gender neutral casual for someone whose gender identity you view as similar to your own
'irl = gender neutral casual for someone whose gender identity you view as more distant to your own

...

ye meet someone who is a combination of two 
ren ye’ve dated in the past

one is courteous and prettily dressed, “Cheemex”
you stared at em across a classroom a decade ago
the other a nerdy swagger with a smoking habit - “Jackson G”

are ‘ey one… or are ‘ey two?

‘ey join you, sitting on the ground 
in the audience of a strange play
masquerade henna smears across ‘eir shining eyes

the play is like a hard core porn scene
one ren strapped to a bench 
while another two back their oiled sexes into ‘eir face

and the director, only one with a full rear view of the sexes
like a magic show
is a ren you respect as disciplined and masterful

a phys’ felt game of footsie with one of the doppels 
on second inspection this ‘irl is an ‘uy

a scene of violence
two ‘uys with bloodied noses punching into one another
and the tech ‘uy said “Want me to build you an app for that?”

when the show ands and all rise
folx go separate ways

Cheemex is the one standing by ye
and ‘e wants to go to the formal University Manor
where ye end in a corner of a large ballroom
while ‘e pirhouettes away
not made of this dimension
a spectral helix dancer
there and not
a quantum enigma in motion


ye are leading the class, well teaching it
though an elde’ren in the corner
pipes in with well tried techniques
and proposes an even more ambitious project
for the class

“I thought we were going to build Katanas”, ye say.
“I think we’re building a chainsaw.” ‘e points to the prototypes

the technology is an iridescent clay 
that hardens into enamel
tough enough to form hilts on full tang steel blades
and yet, on closer inspection
it has the potential to form carapaces for power tools as well

ye find yerself rolling out a huge sheet of marbled clay
with a large bread pin

it seems every time ye look up
there are less students in the class
and more space in the studio -
garage - warehouse - movie set

a sheltered infant staring at the firmament
of an Amazon distribution center.


at the end of the movie where ye somehow ended up
with Ryen Zellwegger,
you ask 

“why’d ye cast ME?”

“We needed someone who can explain the plan and ye’re good at that.”

“well”, ye think, gathering yer muster for a response.

“Thank you!”
“Thank you even if I was a typecast!”
“Thank you even if it was all just a dream.”


yer up on the wobbly tops of some living roofs 
with yer Mod and Pom 
when the invasion comes
at first it looks like an omni dimensional stealth craft
assembling itself in the sky

there are two copies, one more solid
and one of a more sublime opacity
intersecting perpendicularly
(ye could have sworn there was a third copy,
one not visible to the eye at all
but distinguished only by the 
trail it carved in the clouds as it
drifted to its origin 
on a z axis to the other two forms)

together, the instrument reveals itself 
to be a kind of sattelite 
and it quickly disappears
over the sea beyond
the San Francisco sky.

what comes next is a battleship
a three pronged purple claw-like craft
whose three claw tips send an arc 
of red electricity 
to a glowing ball
that hovers in the air between

it seems able to simultaneous strike
an unlimited number of targets
instantly impacting wide swaths of the metropolis
with arching energy projectiles

you urge your folks to shield ‘emselves behind
lumps in the hill
but ‘ey were out on the street to watch
and there ye see what 
these missiles do
creating patches of space
where time has ground to a halt

yer mod and pom are both caught in it
but ye see that yer Mod is kind of on the edge
while ye are able to pull ‘em back in
to the undisrupted time zone,
Pom is too far in to save
forever frozen in a wide eyed 
watching position
across an uncrossable wall of time
in space

checking the map reveals that
while yer area was not hit directly
it has been stranded in space time
with no bridges or boats to cross
just a tiny patch
of hills and houses
in a suburban neighborhood


A ‘ren watching what they assume must be the first 
alien attack ever on San Francisco
stands on the street
and in an instant
‘e is at the edge of a dark pit
into which disappear ‘eir partner and child

“We weren’t attacking you,
we were saving as many of you as we could,
saving you from your slow slow time.”