Blind Action
︎︎︎ David San Miguel
︎ Apr 4, 2024
Sometimes I drive 100 MPH and I close my eyes.
I always take the gamble because I’m addicted to hope.
On the interior of my lids is a phantasmagoric
well of spacetime.
I pick a memory and wade in it.
I’m going 112 MPH now and I’m 6 years old.
It was summer at Disney. I told my brain,
“Remember this forever please.”
Next round, I’m all in.
I’m at 150 and it’s hard to breathe.
This memory was 2 hours ago.
I asked if you loved me and you didn’t answer.
I told my brain, “Please let me forget this one.”
I always take the gamble because I’m addicted to hope.
On the interior of my lids is a phantasmagoric
well of spacetime.
I pick a memory and wade in it.
I’m going 112 MPH now and I’m 6 years old.
It was summer at Disney. I told my brain,
“Remember this forever please.”
Next round, I’m all in.
I’m at 150 and it’s hard to breathe.
This memory was 2 hours ago.
I asked if you loved me and you didn’t answer.
I told my brain, “Please let me forget this one.”
David San Miguel is a writer in Los Angeles. @dogvilled