On the walk to the tanning parlor
under broken umbrella I conjured
the weather: bleak,
dreary, grim, dismal, murky, gloomy.
I wish I'd remembered stygian and
tenebrous but that's what a thesaurus
is for (or is that a kind of dinosaur?).
It was my first time rent-a-tanning.
I'd always thought of it as a tacky
expression of vanity, but the relentless
grey of this dark season sent me and
Sarah scuttling through the dank
afternoon in search of light therapy.
It was my first time and I still don't
trust this radiation casket which fries
your skin in 6 minutes flat, but it did
feel good, even if the cooling fans blew
so loud I found myself imagining I was
on a beach beside an
few things today retain such a futuristic
aura. Cars, phones, computers all look
dated surprisingly fast, but the glowing
sarcophagus of a tanning bed still elicits
fiction comparisons. Not so much
the suspended animation pods of A Space
Odyssey or Planet of
the Apes, but more
the shabby and absurd attempts of the
hairy astronauts in Dark Star
their lost natural world with technology.