You Imagine Helen Keller

You sit in a small classroom. You notice a grey-skyed downpour out of the lone window. You notice the florescent fixture above you. You notice the bulb, blinking and staggering. You guess it will die before class does. You flip through the stapled pages of a speech on your desk. You read Helen Keller wrote the speech. You hear the professor describe how she delivered the speech to teamsters. You furl your brow. You stare at the pages. You imagine Helen Keller gesturing from a balcony down to an adoring crowd. You imagine Helen Keller as Evita. You can not imagine her speaking. You imagine her mouth sullen and shut as she reads. You imagine her throat rumbling through the words. You imagine feeling her throat rumble with your open palm. You imagine the vibrations as harmonica notes which raise in pitch as her gestures grow furious. You imagine her eyes. You imagine her brow dancing from behind dark glasses to the melody of her guttural harmonica song. You imagine her wearing a purple velvet Victorian dress. You imagine a high neck and white lace. You imagine her wearing a matching hat. You imagine her hands in grey leather gloves. You imagine yourself wearing coveralls in her audience. You imagine standing packed against men buzzing with the hope of her gesture-song. You imagine they smell like your father. You imagine they smell like sweat and smoked cigarettes. You imagine holding a wrench in your fist. You imagine lifting your wrenched fist when Helen Keller thrusts her arms into the sky as her rumbling harmonica screeches. You imagine the men around you naming their daughters or cars Helen. You imagine farmers peppered in with the teamsters. You imagine your grandfather. You imagine Fred in the back of the crowd leaning on his Buick. You imagine her song disintegrating his reservations. You imagine him convinced. You imagine him nodding to himself as he drives away. You imagine he heard enough. You imagine this is why your mother is named Helen. You recognize you are still staring at the stapled papers. You notice the fixture above you buzz and flash. You notice the bulb burn out.