i awoke in a white room
unfurnished, but with rugs and scattered clothing, Lisa said we could stay here
semi-disoriented as usual, i go check things out
the next room is dim and green like entering a forest
like the rainforest of southeast alaska (last week), but this is like an art installation
this room is simulacrum or parody of a dim green forest
everything soft, i am trying to make it out
against the far wall, items in rows, on shelves?
what are they, i can’t tell, personal items repurposed or repainted, what do they represent?
some kind of art thing, art idea, I can’t tell exactly what the items are
against a mossy background, plush artificial moss or is it real
like mike kelly junk, what does it mean
a woman (white woman, brunette curly hair, resident i assume) goes by in the periphery of sight, like Emily Barton
(she has sour bird-faced expression like she needs her morning coffee) so there are other people in this apt.
she goes into the kitchen, maybe i should put my clothes on
my clothes are probably in a pile in that first bedroom
i ambulate past cavernous dark room that is probably dining and living area maybe a fireplace at far end
but keep going, where the hell are my pants? enter another bedroom
it’s not that first room i woke up, it’s another bedroom (someone else’s)
a guy, younger white guy like the woman with close-cropped dark hair goes by
shuts a door behind himself looking like Joe Mosconi, he also pays little or no attention to me (sour expression)
meanwhile i’m poking about piles of abandoned clothes in corners
i’ve awoken in gentrified white hipster America and i can’t find my pants