this evening, i sat waiting for my friend jo williamson to meet me to talk about her website that i’m developing. it was windy and the light hit the buildings at a sideways angle. a park official tried to talk two homeless people out of setting up camp and two middle-aged gay men were standing near a card table with a banner that read “jackson square alliance.” a man sat by himself on a bench in the center, wearing large headphones and glasses - beside him a large clear plastic bag filled with many opaque plastic bags. at the other end of my bench a woman sat with some fashionable flats and an iced coffee in a translucent plastic cup from a deli. a man dressed like a hip bike messenger came along with piercings and what seemed to be a tour group. he asked a colleague if the spanish couple from the top floor were coming and if he remembered their names. an older couple walked diagonally in front of me. the man was gaily smoking a cigar and the woman walked with a smile and bunchy, red curls. they sat by a bird-bath-type sculpture in a corner.

the fountain was fully operational in an area enclosed by a fence, dotted with what looked to be miniature maple trees, but not japanese maples. i looked at the other taller trees around the park. i heard a subway pass underneath, the A C E trains. i thought about how deep the strata reached before it opened unto subway tunnels. i thought about cramped roots, breaking through a subway car’s ceiling as it whooshed uptown.

then in my mind the ground began to shake.

i felt my sacrum press against the newly replaced wooden slats of the bench i was sitting on as i was thrust upward. the entire island of the triangular square began to detach from the earth below and the entire park and its contents began to slowly climb upwards into the sky. the seat felt comfortable and safe, like on an old-fashioned rollercoaster. no one tried to jump to the ground even though our rate of ascent made this more than possible. instead we all seemed to be content with our exodus - somehow procrastinating thinking thoughts about what actual life would be like on our floating island. we didn’t think about food or water, or about what was going to happen to our families. we just sat and stood content with our imperfect utopia as it rose further and further up through the sky. soon there was no more earth to be seen and we were swallowed by clouds. the light and the wind somehow magically remained an it was as if time was frozen in a graceful snapshot. we continued floating upwards until the end of time - and we explained all there was to explain about the world as we left it, and we shared imaginative stories about what had changed since we’d gone, and gambled on earth’s continued existence. i can’t say we were happy, but in my hallucination there was a sense of ease i imagine all utopias must grow from.

in walked jo, to the park. she had on a beautiful scarf around her head, which she later questioned wearing. i told her it looked great, because it did.