The Martini Effect – Chapter 15 (The Mural and Marylou)

(15)

(We rejoin our Dharma Drunk heroes roving the streets of Greenpoint, Brooklyn.)

“Where to go?” Marylou asks.

“What you feeling?” I ask her back.

“I need another Shangri-La,” Marylou says.

We round the corner onto Greenpoint Avenue and Marylou stops to study the mural on the warehouse wall.

“I speak Polish,” Marylou says as she points up to the corner of the painting, the written Polish phrase underscoring the monochromatic image of refugees.

“You do not,” I tease.

“’I speak Polish’ is the only Polish I know,” she says.

She steps closer to the mural and looks deeper into each frame.

I stand behind her and watch her touch the wall, as if she wants to feel the water, the rope, the bulk of the man’s arm, the celluloid running up the side. She wants to become part of the mural. She wants to be like Alice and slip through the looking glass into another sphere of reality.

Marylou speaks as she faces the painting. “We sail. We land. We work. We build. We pray. We conquer.” She cranes her neck and looks back at me over her shoulder. “Why do we still feel so lost, my friend?” Marylou asks me.

I don’t have an answer.

Marylou turns back to face the mural. “We speak. We shout. We demand. We post. We tweet. We retweet. We post again. We share. We threaten. We spew. We friend. We unfriend. We connect. We reconnect. We disconnect. We reappear. We disappear. We’re never more than a few Google searches away from anyone. We have no more secrets. We’ve photographed and mapped every corner of the planet. We have no more privacy. We have no more mystery. We’ve sailed and conquered everything.”

She steps away from the mural.

“How can we still feel so lost?” Marylou asks.

I still don’t have an answer.

“I need another Shangri-La,” Marylou says. And she turns and continues down Greenpoint Avenue.

And I follow.

Because I always follow Marylou.

(To be continued…)