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by Jay Frankston Fifteen years before the flood I was riding a bus with my briefcase on my lap. I could measure the distance between dos and don'ts like steps in a square dance twirling me around the flame. and then the phone rang. When the meeting broke up we all went home and dug our wells but I left my briefcase on the bus and it sizzled on the back burner. There was something in it that was very important and it found its way into my dreams. I was caught in a storm the briefcase floating down the river or falling out the window and then the phone rang. Was it a bus or the subway? Did I really have a briefcase? I can't remember now It's all so vague. But it was important, very important just before the phone rang. Copyright 2015. All rights reserved.
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