Free Vertigo Park and Other Tall Tales by Mark O'Donnell Page A

anyhow?”
    “We must sterilize, sterilize all unclean substances!” young Doctor Salvage declared, releasing Anodyne’s lifeless form to tumble to the floor with a drama unknown in her life. The sound of Anodyne’s charm bracelet striking the parquet roused Bitty from herdistraction. She beheld her late cousin, whom several of the now released kittens were vainly nuzzling, and turned to face Doctor Salvage. He stood stiffly in his torn lab coat, and his breathing sounded like a great skyscraper’s heating ducts, soft but implicitly awesome in scope, and ineluctably mechanical.
    “Well, Doctor,” she said in as even a voice as she could muster. “If you insist, I will marry you.”

THREE LOST POEMS
    (It is not generally known that Emily Dickinson worked for a time as a copywriter at BBD&O, in Boston.)
THE DOVE BAR
 
    Some seek diviner Donuts
    Who hear of Heaven’s Sweets—
    They pine for flying Crullers
    Who dine on mundane Meats—
    The Bird of Peace Transfigured—
    Unconscious, on a Stick—
    For once, a Fruit the haggard
    And beggared Soul may pick—
    The Arctic cream of Bossie—
    That Aztec, Chocolate—
    The White and Black made glossy—
    And Justified—at that—
    Antipodes united—
    They must have used a Lab—
    The polar Host has lighted—
    The Word—a frozen Slab.
THE TRIUMPH
 
    My heart could not accelerate—
    It was weighed down by Fact.
    Mere blood lacks petrol’s octane
    For speed’s triumphal act.
    The dead lie still while angels race;
    The slow know death in life.
    Velocity is Caesar—
    It conquers like a knife.
    I strove, in boots and bootless,
    And neither made me fly.
    Since Providence does not provide,
    Then Commerce may comply.
    This steed leaps from the foundry,
    A stallion told in steel,
    Exultant as the arrow
    That soars above the Real.
    Voracious clockwork panther,
    Amnesiac in its climb,
    It heedless fells the highway,
    Remorseless—as Time.
SOMINEX
 
    Because Sleep tarried when I called,
    And care gnawed at the walls,
    I learned a faith in Chemistry,
    The Djinn that answers calls.
    Its powders spread like snowfall
    Or all-obscuring sand,
    Throughout the secret acres,
    To still the fevered land.
    The mob of thoughts disperses,
    The wrenching pistons cease.
    The greatest dream—is Dreamlessness—
    The blizzard’s whitening peace.
    False robes of absolution,
    Imposter’s crown of rest—
    The comfort of the blessed—here—
    Conferred on the Unblessed.

DIARY OF A FAN

SUNDAY:
 
    I saw Sigourney Weaver on the street today. She was alone. I pity her.
    Also—is this possible?—I think I saw Leslie Howard as a young man. It was near the Museum of Modern Art, so maybe he was there for one of their revivals.
MONDAY:
 
    Maurice at work wants to get serious. He sent me a Xerox copy of his face that he did in the mailroom. It was not flattering.
    Lunch at the Chinese restaurant near the office. There were a lot of framed photos on the walls—struggling actors, I guess. They were all grinning like tigers, but their eyes were strictly deer caught in oncoming headlights. I asked the manager who they were, but all he could say was “Very famous.” I think certain someones, or should I say certain nobodies, have been taking advantage of his recent-immigrant status. One man’s photo I did recognize, but it was from seeing him at the newsstand where I get
Cahiers de la Célébrité.
He buys
Back Stage
, so how famous can he be?
    After work I went to my Support for Lovers of Unattainably Remote People meeting. This week we met at Garbo Spooney’s apartment. She’s a second-generation fan (her mother dipped a handkerchief in Dillinger’s blood), which I guess is what makes her so stuck-up. She has a framed picture of herself with the Invisible Man, but I suspect it’s just an Invisible Man impersonator.
    Right before the meeting began she asked if anyone was attending SLURP for the first time, when obviously it was the five of us, just like always.
    “You don’t have to be so