| drew davidson |
 

 

Click

by
Drew Davidson


Dawn. It waits.
Sunlight creeps into the room. It slowly opens an eye, senses the other's presence, closes eye. It is warm. BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! BE- It feels the other stir, get up, move close by, leave. CLICK! Light, more warmth soaks in, blood flows. It moves onto a rock, closer to warmth. Stop! The other is back, close, on top, all over.
Hey Ickey! Here's your breakfast.
Up goes the top, in comes a hand, out goes the plate. It remains still, hears the shredding, smells the lettuce. Back comes the plate, heap of green. The other shuts the lid and rustles about the room.
There you you go buddy. Now, I want you to eat it all. OK?
More rustling about, the other leaves, shuts door. Silence. Warmth. It slowly slides off the rock and crawls toward the lettuce. Fresh, wet smell of food as It snaps up each shred and swallows. Satiated, It dips into the water, wets scales. Out and back to the rock to nap. Wet, warm, dry.
Awake, it is time. It looks at the clock, 10:00 AM. Good. It double-checks and feels for any other presence nearby. None. Off the rock and up the branch. At the top, It braces Its tail and pushes on the screen lid, sliding it to the side. Patiently, through the opening, out the cage, onto the bed, then the floor. Slowly, across the floor, under the door. It looks around, alone. Cautiously, down the stairs to the table. Checks clock on VCR, 10:30. Perfect. Crawls to the remote control. Push, on goes the TV. Push, push, it tunes into CNN; worldwide poverty, threatening wars, drugs, AIDS. It feels some sympathy for humans and the other who gives It food, but not much. Self-wrought, and so, deserved. Must be human emotions cloud rational thought. It watches, learns, wonders. Sees clips of Michael Jordan in sports segment. Push, turns to M TV, basks on the energy of the music. Mmmm, good biorhythms, if humans only knew. Feels movement, senses for a presence, none, looks. A roach, jump, lunch. Licking Its lips, It crawls on the couch and out the window through the clipped screen. Soaking in the sun and the music. Ahhhh, It slips away into other levels of consciousness. It slides into Itself, out to the presence of the ultimate, the All. Overwhelmingly All, and It nothing in comparison, but a part of the All. The All is a part of everything and it is a part of the All. It is the All, nirvana. It bathes in the waters of everything. And is nothing, but a drop of water from which to bathe. In to out. Infinite, ultimate, glorious paradox.
It senses another presence!
The other is riding up with a fellow human. In window, up on table. Hears the two talking at the front door. TV off, off table, up stairs. The front door opens, under door, voices and steps on stairs. On bed, on cage, voices at door, quick and quiet, slides back lid, the door is opening, voices.
See, here's my iguana, the Ickster.
Does he do anything?
Naw, he pretty much just sits there. (Inwardly, It smiles.) But, he's pretty neat, I like him.
Boo!... Man, he didn't even move. How boring can you get? What a waste of money!
Yeah, yeah. I've heard it all before. Come on, let's let him be. He likes to hang out by himself.
All right.
The two leave and close the door. It breathes a sigh of relief. Wouldn't do to get discovered. Best be more cautious. Hears the front door slam. Feels no presence around. Relaxes. Just learn the other's pattern. So predictable, humans. Warm, dozes off.
Dusk. Other at desk, typing on computer. It enjoys the music, nice and bluesy. Absorbs the music. It is happy to be alive, and tired of life. Thinks, reminisces. Past lives, past reincarnations. All drops of water from which to bathe. It has had a long life, close to forever. It has seen a lot, remembers more, good, bad, All. Water, flowing through Its porous body as It reaches out a microscopic feeler. Interacting with other microscopic organisms. The ancient tortoise. Slowly, patiently, making Its way from here to there and back. So, simple. The whoosh of wind as It dove through the air towards Its prey. Flight. Freedom of body as well as soul. The sharp, stopping pain of a ripping bullet. The buffalo fell. The old man, hermit, high in the mountains away from humanity. Looking in to see out, to see the All. The splash of water as It leapt to and fro with the pod of dolphins. Cold, fresh water. The hot, throbbing convulsions as It gave birth to a fawn. The joy, the creation of life. Bees vainly biting at Its bear hide as It stole their sweet, smooth honey. So, sticky.
Yes, It is happy, and tired. The other has moved and now is in bed. It looks at the clock, 10:50. Almost time. But what is time to It? It doesn't know. For all It has learned, there is so much more. Questions to answer, answers to question. All to learn, to learn All. Forever? Maybe one day, and then... CLICK! Darkness.
Night. It waits.


 

 


 

| drew davidson |