Ahh, I can feel the bright winter sun shining through my window. Its glint shines upon my face. Really don’t want to get out of bed. I'd rather continue to feel that lazy delight and
coziness of an early morning rest. I stretch, I yawn and slowly pry my eyes open; feeling
the sun’s warmth on my face. I rub my face. That’s odd -- my face, it feels unusually
smooth today. Strangely different, but I conclude it must be my drowsiness. I slowly down
my foot onto the carpet and make my way to the bathroom. Flicking on the light switch, I
move towards the sink. With half closed lids I glance into the mirror before starting my
bathroom chores. My god, my face is purple. I must be still sleeping, I think, and heartily
rub my eyes. Blinking a few times ... oh my god - I’ve turned purple. My face is purple. A
dark deep purple actually, I’ve turned into ... into an eggplant. Well that’s a new one, I
think; as I gently run my hand over my clean shaven purple sheen. Well at least I won’t
have to shave this morning; that’s a plus. I turn on the tap and run water through my
hands. Happy to see my hands haven’t changed. I cup some water in my palms and
splash it onto my purple exterior. It doesn’t seem to wash away. I then realize that this
could be trouble.
Not sure how others feel and think about eggplants. I do live in a vegetarian
community, but this could be strange even to them. But I’m sure someplace, somewhere,
other people are going through the same thing. I’m not “that” unique. There has to be
others. They always say -- nothing is new. Well at least I’m not a bug like in Kafka’s story.
That’s a plus. I wonder how it happened. Don’t remember drinking to much grape juice,
eating eggplant or any other purply thing yesterday. Not even sure how I feel about
eggplants. Well, they are night shades; but I didn’t get to sleep late. I wonder what it all
means. Perhaps, the rest of my family or friends have also turned into vegetables. I should
give them a call. What if they have changed -- but not into eggplants? Maybe my relatives
are other kinds of vegetables, or fruits or a dozen other things. It would be nice to choose
which vegetable you’d like to be for a day? Perhaps it’s a local phenomena, something
to do with radio waves, or the water supply and such things like that. Wonder if being on
the internet too much can turn one into an eggplant?
Strange ... I got it, maybe it’s because I’m a vegetarian. They do say you are what
you eat ... No that’s not it. Haven’t had eggplant in months -- why an eggplant?
Especially when I have a busy morning ahead. Well if it is widespread, I’m sure “All
Things Considered” on the radio will have a story on it. I leave the bathroom, waking
to the right corner of my bedroom, where I have my stereo receiver. I push the radio’s
play button on, listening intently for a few minutes for any news flash, -- but nothing
is mentioned. Possibly it’s only happened to a select group and the government is
keeping it secret for a while. I sure hope CNN runs a special report on it.
I start to get hungry -- making me wonder if I should go to my local diner and
have my usual breakfast. No, better wait, maybe this change will pass. It could just
be a cycle I’m going through. Maybe next week I’ll be a squash or a pumpkin. I always
liked the idea of being more colorful. I got it, I woke up to early and I’m still dreaming.
That’s it. I’ll try pinching myself on the arm. Ouch, feels pretty real to me. Maybe I
should go back to sleep. Not sure if I can, I’m not tired anymore.
I should call someone, but I'm not sure who. What would I say? Who does one
call if you wake up looking like an eggplant? Which people do you tell? Maybe it’s
better to just keep things to oneself. I think I’ll just put on a hat and wrap a scarf
around my eggplant face and go to breakfast. Why not, what am I afraid of? If they
ask I’ll tell them I have a skin disease. At least by going out I’ll see if I’m the only one
going through this. This eggplant thing may be disconcerting for a lot of people; I’m
really not sure.
Not even certain if most people like eggplants. Well, I’ll soon find out. Would be nice
if I wasn’t the only one. Anyway, if I am, I’ll deal with it better after I eat. So, I hurryingly
put on my plaid shirt, corduroy pants, a tweed wool sweater and a warm winter jacket.
Must be cold outside today, I think. Hoping that I don’t turn into a frozen vegetable, I
place my hat firmly over my eggplant shaped head, then wrap my outer purple coating
in a soft green acrylic scarf. I look around my room, open the door and slowly leave,
thinking this should be an interesting day.
©charlie elkind 1/18/99
i was born in an egg
hidden in a dark forest glen --
with parents unknown.
i felt my aloneness
as i slumbered soundly
in my watery egg-born sleep.
my eyes opened --
i tried to break free
kicking against
the egg's inner membrane
i listened for a call,
but all i could hear
were gentle outer sounds;
sounds like a mightly wind
sounds like a mightly breath
going in, going out
washing over my egg's outer shell.
slowly a crack appeared
on the egg's inner wall,
it was thin
and with each new kick
a gap and the line
grew wider and more open.
a ray of light - seeped into
my inner darkness.
i could feel a thin wind
slowly wafting through
the interior.
the wind grew stronger
loosening from the inner membrane
curds of a milky white substance.
the curds coalesced --
forming an interior landscape
bringing forth trees
and plants, and creatures
from all the elements
and being of all descriptions.
the crack widened --
and now i could see out,
if only dimly.
i saw other eggs
thousands of them, millions of them
each egg had a crack
and an opening --
some wider then others.
i peered into a crack
of a nearly egg --
and my eyes fell
upon a fractured mirror.
i looked deeper,
into the pieces of the mirror
and saw an image of my true face --
staring back at me.
it was a dimmed view i had --
i didn't know
what to expect
for i had never seen my face before.
and all around --
the winds grew stronger
and more light crept in ...
charlie elkind
(revised Oct 2006)
