Ricky Garni


It’s sundown and you look through a telescope and
see the world upside down stand on your head and
look through the telescope and the world will still be
upside down and you will get dizzy until dinnertime.
It’s dinnertime and it’s time to fold up the telescope
and put it in your pocket and go inside to eat and forget
that you even have a telescope until you undress for bedtime.
It’s bedtime and you find it there along with a love letter that
you wrote earlier in the day to your telescope and the words
are sincere but upside down:

You love the world and want to bring it closer.
You love the world and you want to be far away.

It’s daytime.

MIAMI, 1968

When I was a child, owls were not ashamed to be naked
and to sell porno. The dust would wrestle the road and monkeys
would play their ukes. And Kings? Well, Kings ate hamburgers
in castles. And teens? Teens danced in buttons. And if later you
wanted to listen to music, you simply asked a peach for it.
It was all gorgeous. Beautiful. The sun was warmer then,
not because it was, but because we simply wanted it to be.

Ricky Garni is a writer and cyclist born in Florida and living in North Carolina. He was recently published in Beecher's Magazine, BODY, Construction and Egg. His latest work is entitled DOTS, a book with an important box in the middle.
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