One Man’s Heaven (part 1)
“Seen this guy before?”
“Before when?”
“Before now.”
“Hey, I don’t see anybody. Who’s here besides you and me?”
“This dude here, with the long, black ponytail. Looks like he’s trying to tell us something. Break in.”
“Break in? Into what?”
“Crash our inner sanctum of conversation.”
“Are you sure your eyesight’s okay? You seeing straight?”
“Sure as I am of anything.”
“Well you can never be too certain of anything. Doesn’t pay. Too likely to find disappointment.”
“But regarding this man. You don’t see him? Gesticulating wildly? Trying to tell us something?”
“Nope. Swear I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Oh? Maybe there is something wrong with me—seriously.”
“When was the last time your eyes were checked or you got new glasses?”
“That wouldn’t affect this. Maybe one day you can’t quite read the bottom line on the eye chart anymore, even wearing glasses, but whole people don’t suddenly materialize—out of nowhere.”
“Afraid I haven’t a clue, though strange things can and do happen. Like right now. Is your dude in back of me, squeezing my left arm? It feels like someone’s back there, pinching me."
“God no. He’s sitting down on the floor next to my bed, frantically waving his arms. For a while there I thought he might have fallen asleep, but he’s at it again.”
“You’re sure no one’s in back of me?”
“Honestly, why would I lie about something like that?”
“I don’t know, but maybe your guy is waving frantically to my guy. Exactly who is your guy looking at, right now? No one in back of me, huh?”
“Truthfully, I can’t see where his eyes are focused from this far away.”
“Maybe you do need new glasses.”
“Why don’t you have a feel in back of yourself with your other hand? Check if someone’s there. Maybe that’s who’s being gestured at. You know, by my guy. Like they can see each other, but both of us can see or feel only one of them.”
Susanne Braham holds a B.A. in English and comparative literature from Columbia University’s School of General Studies in New York City and an M.A. in theater education from Emerson College in Boston, MA. Several of her poems have been published in two recent anthologies about widowhood. In addition to other poetry, she has published literary nonfiction and humorous anecdotes; her favorite is online at Clever Magazine.
She has worked in Off and Off-Off Broadway theater as an actress, stage manager, and electrician, and was an elementary school librarian for six years. Having edited for Columbia University for more than 17 years, she has recently retired from full-time employment to rest her eyes.
