Sunday, June 19, 2011

Memory Foam

You told me when you left me your bed to be careful how I slept: "it's memory foam."

Sleep alone, on the left side of the bed.
Sleep on your back.
Memory foam learns while you are unconscious to better and better create the perfect sleeping experience for you! Memory foam is a sentient being. Memory foam knows how to treat you right. Memory foam is like your first lover. Memory foam is like the first time you tasted a vodka cooler. Memory foam is like moon shoes for your whole body. Memory foam is like an Indian guru you will follow for 7 years in hopes he will perform a miracle for you, simply touch you.
Memory foam is polyurethane, no springs like other mattresses. It will mold to a warm body, become your shell if you fancy yourself a homeless crustacean. Memory foam was invented by NASA after years of studying astronaut sleep and the effects of LSD. It is the number one most effective preventative measure against gangrene. It is the number one most effective and inventive pleasure against my flesh. Memory foam defies the laws of science. Memory foam is witchcraft especially for your vertebral column.

The first time I slept on your memory foam mattress, I fell into a deep depression and could not leave your bed for months. This bed has become so used to one body that long after you left it to me, I was left curling up in your retained grooves, restraining my own arching backbone like a cocoon. I am Jonah and your mattress is the whale. I am alone in a cave of blubber and visco-elastic.

And breaking out I slept sprawled, I tossed and turned, I invited strangers into my bed to disrupt the exacting science of the memory foam. I hosted orgies, I watched television on my laptop, which burned an abyssal hole into the surface of the foam with its motor.
I did all the things no one is ever supposed to do in bed, lest they disrupt the sleep cycle: I ate full meals, I smoked, I got drunk and made art, I jumped and danced to the Talking Heads, I held a seance for the spirits of younger John Lennons and Yoko Onos, I bedded-in for peace
and quiet.
And then I raged and threw up and learned to play every Celine Dion song ever written on my ukulele. And I gave the memory foam a night to remember.

If memory foam is the number one most effective preventative measure against gangrene, it is also so comfortable that it is the least effective incentive for ever getting out of bed.

This mattress will maintain the imprints of my body for years to come, each twitch and shift and sonambulatory gesture like a psychedelic flashback.
When you come back to sleep in your bed again, you will have a body memory, an out-of-body experience, you will wear a body suit, a straight-jacket, you will have to visit a body shop, go on a body break.
You will be what they call embodied mind,
because there has been a transfer of memory from me to your mattress,
and your mattress will never let you forget it.

2 comments:

  1. This is awesome. I would love to hear you perform it. TIP next year? Um, yeah.

    I fancy myself a homeless crustacean :)

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  2. Hahaha. You're too kind! Saskatoon doesn't look like it for me, but maybe sometime, somewhere, someone other than you will get to hear poems from me. ;)

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