Girl on a Bike

   I bike through the swirling dust. The dust pinches my skin. The dust is cinematic. It seems, nowadays, everything is cinematic. Novels, TV, reality, cinema … dust. We have become cinemanesthasized. We are in a trance. How long will it last? One hundred years? One thousand? A trance is a trance is a trance. However long it lasts, I’m not worried. Even though I won’t be here, I’ll be here. Know what I mean?

   We are bewitched by the gods of cinema. That are not gods at all, in a cinema that doesn’t exist. Which makes the bewitching even deadlier.

   These are the things I’m thinking as I pedal through the dust storm, winds blowing furiously, thirty forty miles an hour, the sky the color of dust, the clouds a smoggy reddishbrown, and I must confess to casting myself as cinematic with my turned backwards baseball cap, aviator glasses, and blue surgical mask, a girl on a bike braving insurmountable odds.

   Apocalypse, as a genre, has become primary cinema within us. Viewer discretion advised.

About John Biscello

Originally from Brooklyn, NY, writer, poet, spoken word performer, and playwright, John Biscello now lives in Taos, New Mexico. He is the author of three novels: Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale, Raking the Dust, and Nocturne Variations, and a collection of stories, Freeze Tag. His fiction and poetry has appeared in: Art Times, nthposition, The Wanderlust Review, Ophelia Street, Caper, Polyphony, Dilate, Militant Roger, Chokecherries, Farmhouse, BENT, The 555 Collective, Instigator, Brass Sopaipilla, The Iconoclast, Adobe Walls, Kansas City Voices, and the Tishman Review. His blog--Notes of an Urban Stray--can be read at Broken Land, a Brooklyn Tale was named Underground Book Reviews 2014 Book of the Year.
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