All Is One Is Bunk by April Fisher
When the movement was made the world moved; universe, cells.
When he awoke, awakening awoke the world; universe, cells. The
smallest unit of life is a cell. Everything, everything is a cell.
Crowded with cells. The edge of his hand, the edge of the universe.
So close is everything. He moved. Voices are part of the movement.
He felt the cells shift and in walked Anna. She was matter. Interchanging
cells put her here. Anna hands him her hand. Pieces flake off.
Anna says, “Arny, you’re looking sharp.” Cells
in the air fuse to her face. Some cells that comprise his lips
shift upwards. Anna answers herself. “Hello? Are you in
there?” He shakes up the matter at the top of his area of
control. He tries to indicate a response. Tiny parts fall from
it to the area of control at his sides. “So…you don’t
want me to hit on you?” None of the movement moves. “Arny?
Whatever, I’m not buying the game. See ya.” A linear
line of movement passes through his head in the form of words.
And then stops. It was girl, gone, it left his center.
He watches the moving bits of the Waitress. She searches his empty
cup which was empty when his center of consciousness arrived,
because the cup isn’t his. Bits of information in Memory
say, East. And then he moves his cells. He pushes, shifts,
arranges them, most of them. He shifts them back to the place
he rests his consciousness, a place called home. Upon
arrival, different. New matter fills the fullness of the area
of perception. It’s a bunch of cells named “Alexis.”
Cells fall out the window when he enters. “Arnold, I let
myself in, I hope you don’t mind, I thought when you hadn’t
called, or returned my calls, or letters, that maybe—well,
I had to make sure you were okay.” He hears a voice inside
and outside, “I’m fine.” Couch.
“Arnold!” She picks up matter in the form of a book.
He watches it move forward at a rapid pace through so many cells
and smash into his center of control.
“Ouch.” The universe, the universe shifts with shifting,
shifting. Bits fall off his center of control and he says, “Arnold
is my name.”
The universe shrinks and he is the room. And he is Arnold. Is
not “Alexis.”
Is not the bookcase. Is definitely not the book.
“What’s that supposed to mean? I should know your
name, considering the number of times you’ve fucked me.”
“Huh?” The room shifts with shifting. So close is
everything in it.
“Stop playing with me, Arnold.”
The room is deteriorating. The cells are collapsing; no—they’re
smudging. The smallest thing is a thing and she’s holding
her hip-things with her hand-things and nothing moves.
“Well, fine, you’re an inconsiderate prick, you know
that? I was just worried about you.” The thing called Alexis
waits. Non-movement, smudgy-still. “You’re such an
asshole!”
She starts throwing multiple things called books at the thing
he is, and the thing he is says, “What the hell?”
He can’t touch her from here, so he stands and moves. There.
“I’m sorry, Alexis.” Thing. She worries-up
her thing called a face.
“Shit. It’s okay. I just miss you. I’ve been
alone since you left.”
“You’re a pretty thing.”
Her lip-things startle him. If they weren’t so there,
they wouldn’t be so here.
The distance was finite between them there.
Then infinite.
The universe. It’s expanding.
The smallest thing; a cell.
A cell.
The room expanded. The space is black. Space is everywhere;
everywhere is Space.
Everywhere is separateness. The opposite of closeness. With
Alexis.
The couch is a distant glimmer. The books are in its orbit.
Every one of his cells journeys.
His legs are glimmers. His body, infinite. Alexis, a glimmer.
Discovery: Alexis.
She travels, she touches.
Every cell has to journey.
She makes his face exist with her hand.
Discovery: his cells, her cells.
He has no toes.
Every one journeys.
He has no stomach; until she touches.
Discovery: cells.
How does she?
Each touch is a destination.
Surprise is.
The universe.
April Fisher
April Fisher has ambrosia in her veins. She's not entirely sure
how that happened, but chances are it occurred somewhere in between
conception and graduation from the University of North Florida.
She recently moved to that glorious city represented by the Statue
of Liberty (S.o.L.), where the stars are replaced with helicopter
and plane lights, and the closest things to the Earth are the
churches. She starts at New York University this Fall, which fills
her with glee. Yes, glee. Much like this publication. She hopes
many more will follow. Please email her at aprilefisher@yahoo.com.
