Precognition?
I barely have post-cognition —
which is to say, memory.
I have memories of memories of a world that never was.
Cobbled together hopes, dreams, and fears made into a montage of me.
One could chip away at what never was, but I’m not sure reality could support it’s own weight.
What was might end up a toxic rubble, steaming away into nothingness.
sitting in a Thai food joint,
couched in the atrium of a Bavarian-themed mall
in Bangalore, India
I smelt a scent —
obviously not fish sauce or coconut curry —
rather some kind of plastic, maybe in the menu lamination,
that transported me back to elementary school,
a parochial school in the Midwest in the 1970’s,
it was a plastic I’d have guessed had long ago ceased being made,
given the lack of such spontaneous dislocation,
I squeezed my eyes shut because travel is expensive,
but olfactory teleportation is free.
Tiger Riding for Beginners 