Notes from a Convalescent
By: Stephen Rifkin - Jun 12, 2015
One thing that I really wish
Is that my left foot looked less
Like a giant purple blow fish.
An accident left me in a mess.
I lie in bed and read Philip K. Dick—
For me, he’s not an ordinary pick.
I keep a pee bottle at my side,
Or go slow on crutches to the bath.
Phil’s time travel really suits me up.
I like the atmosphere of rain
And great cities limned in ruin.
Right now, I’m not a partisan of bliss.
In Dick’s slow pan, I delve dystopias.
It’s a pleasure, knowing there are no utopias.
Human projects always seem to miss
A step, which I can vouch for in a whirl.
I want to save a doomed, sexy android girl—
Rise in my hover car, take a stand, break the rules.
She hides in towers, on drizzly streets, and with creatures to avoid.
She’s drawn to crap, downbeat versions of Detroit.
I feel something, Philip Dick, not Schadenfreud!
When I get well, whenever that is,
I’ll try again to read William Gaddis.
North Adams, 6/8/15