Aura Girl Series No. 9

There’s a field on the body. Left of the center.

I know, she said. Kicked up her legs. See this? I got it once, riding through some brush.

You say, Yeah, I’ve had that, too.

Continue typing.

She keeps shaking her hands at you. These are imaginary questions. They have sparks and barbs and listen to your thoughts. She sits across from you in the orange chair. You’re back at the coffee shop. Don’t look her in the face. In the face that’s not-really-there.

Hey, you got enough words for me? She asks.

Continue typing.

I know about that body thing you’re trying to write about, she says. I have one. Once, I kept track of my feet for a mile. You know what happened?

Continue typing. Don’t look up.

Hey, you listening to me? Well, anyway, what happened was, I found my feet doing this mathematical equation, ‘cept people don’t usually pay attention. That’s the path you gotta take. You know what I mean?

Continue typing. Don’t look up.

Does 33X07 mean anything to you?

Stop typing. Look up.

She laughs. I knew that’d get your attention, she says. You ever hear of auras? You know, the things around people’s bodies?

You nod your head. The couple in the coffee shop next to you whisper, wonder who you’re nodding to. A man moves chairs around. A pressure on the chest left of center.

There’s a field in the aura. You ever hear of that before? You know, you got a man inside you, she says. Laughs.


The man by the East gate untangles a bridle. Grabs someleather soap. Wonder what she’d call this, he thinks. Touches himself. The new mare with two white hocks paws the sawdust. A numerical equation floats above them. The man looks up from his hands, soaping the bridle. Do that again, he says. The mare paws. 33X07. Damn, he says, you’re singin’!


You ever want to be a bug? says the girl.

Never thought of it before.

Well, if you were going to be a bug, what kind would you be?

I don’t know. A cricket.

Yeah! That’s what I said! ‘Cause they sing!

They rub their legs together.

He told me to do that once.


The man by the East gate. He said, rub ’em for me! I said, OK. And you know what?


I sang!

Your legs or your mouth?

He put soap on ’em.


The imaginary girl isn’t in the orange chair anymore. You lost the vision. It takes an hour to get to sleep, sometimes longer. Now-a-days, the sky lets you keep it in your back pocket. Makes you hot. The streets have cracks. You try to count your steps. If you could bite a tree again, you would. Don’t let the weight on the chest get to you. Keep thinking about the field you should know about. Compose a letter. The man on the train takes out his pen. Marks lines on a page. X. Focus on it. I know what you mean, you write. I know what you’re trying to do. Just then, the thought of breaking open the window, jumping on the tracks. XXXXX. Sign your name.


Damn. The light gets in just like that! Says the man by the East gate. A jackrabbit leaps the fence. Stops. Stares. What you got, baby? He takes out his gun, aims. Naw, you aint my type, he says, laughs. The jackrabbit laughs, says, Don’t you want to eat me?


Draw a circle in the dirt, says the girl.

OK. There.

You see how it’s like a baby egg?

Sure. I guess so.

You like the blues?


It makes me wiggle. He played it for me, once. Ever hear of Muddy Waters?

Of course.

I hadn’t heard anything like that before. See my baby egg?

Uh huh.

You think something will come out of it?

It’s just a circle in the dirt.

No it’s NOT! It’s an egg. You just can’t see it.

OK, OK. It’s an egg.

Why are you crying?

I don’t know.

I know why. It’s ’cause you can’t see the baby inside the egg.


The coffee shop plays Muddy Waters. Oh, yeah. Yeah, everything’s gonna be alright this mornin’.

You wiggle in your chair.

Now when I was a young boy, at the age of five, my mother said I was gonna be the greatest man alive.

I’m a man in a child. Love me. Oh child. I’m a man.

Call the girl back. Her not-real-face. Call her back. Compose a letter. I know what you mean. I made the moon, baby.

I made the moon, baby.

I made the moon, baby.

I made. I made. I made.

You wiggle in your chair.

The couple next to you whispers. Wonders who you wiggle to.


See my stars? They’re in my skirt, says the girl.

They taste like him.

He said I had words inside me.

You ever feel your body belongs somewhere else?

No. I just sit here and wait.

For what?

I don’t know.

Soap? His soap on your legs?

See the egg? It’s got an aura.

I don’t see those anymore.

Yes you do. You don’t need a horse with a tattoo to see those.

You said I should send him an animal, that he listens to them?

Yeah. He might answer back, too.

With words?

That’s what you’re waiting for. That’s what he’ll give you.

Are you real? I mean, you’re a little girl. With stars on her skirt that tastes like, like.

Like what?

Nevermind. Forget it.


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