Not quite human
As I left my apartment to get a bite to eat this evening I caught sight of a dress form in the sunroom of another apartment building on my street. An interesting sight, to be sure, when viewed out of the corner of your eye. Now, the sunroom had sheers hung in front of the windows, partially obscuring the dress form that was illuminated from behind by a naked light bulb atop a shade-less lamp. Eerie how the impression of the destroyed Roman Empire is evoked when confronted by a limbless, headless torso. And worse still, the dress form was naked. Yep, completely and totally stark naked. It was like the night of the living dead mannequin was watching me, following me, keeping tabs on my every movement, communicating with the mannequins in the shops along Forbes avenue as I passed by on my way out to eat. Talking to the dismembered hands in the window of the jewelry store upon which they display rings. Sending out signals to the single legs clad in various stockings in the undergarment section of the mall department stores next to the topless, torso-less khaki pants displays. Receiving broadcasts from the heads in the eyewear store disguising themselves behind different styles of glasses and sunglasses.
This subtle choreography of disembodied parts and disemparted bodies all watching in earnest the ease with which I locomote about, all yearning to be whole, to have a common goal, a destination and a destiny toward which it (they) might move, amble or shuffle.
And I'm haunted now by images of the human form trying desperately to exist in the human condition.