| I was taking
a bath with two beautiful
ghosts in my grandmother's
old house. They were both
Czech, at first invisible,
but once they knew I knew
they were there, I could
see. Still, when I tried
taking a picture with my
digital camera, they didn't
show up. Ghosts, definitely.
Babi (my grandmother), kept
passing through with a
knowing air, herself no
longer flesh. We
smoked a cigarette and put
it out in the water, set it
on the edge of the tub where
the filter squirted--a
practiced trick. They felt
good and it was getting
pretty sexy. A Czech tape
was playing on the
radio--"Go Home, Joe." It
obviously had something to
do with death and
restlessness. In the perfect
Czech I speak only when
drunk or in dreams,
I asked, "Why aren't you in
heaven or wherever that
place is exactly one goes
after they die?" They looked
a little sad that I had
asked, and I woke up with a
start, unsure where I was,
but certain that if I'd
remained silent they would
have taken me. |
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