where to begin

I look at the wallpaper you always put up specially at Christmas time, and then have torn down again by Easter, always the same pattern, red and green flowers against white, but it's the kind of white only old people like.

I suppose your shoulders were square once instead of rounded, and your arms were strong and sinewy. I suppose you sat on docks with your girlfriends and gossiped about that sweet boy and how he looked coming out of the water, smiling his white grin at you, the kind of white young girls like so much.

Did you wear one of those funny protective hair coverings when you swam? Did you feel something grab your leg and you panicked, splashing wildly for a moment, until you stood in the sand and saw it was just him. You spluttered lake water out of your mouth but before you could yell he touched your face and the sunlight then was the kind of white everybody likes.

Was it cold and did both pairs of arms have goosebumps on them and was water hanging above your lips as they met?

the sounds mouths make in chicago

red lipstick! red lipstick! it's what's on my mind tonight. almost-black hair and round, dark eyes. and red lips. the word lips even sounds red. lips lips sip slip silk kiss. straw strawberry shake shape nape neck lick lip lips lips sip.... I'm writing a list in my notebook, 21 before 21, and I've got a year and seven months to cross each item off. some are silly and random and some are big and hard and thrilling and some are in the middle. all things I very much want to do and want to make a point to do. a little over one a month and I'll make it, right-ho, let's go out and seize the days, folks! cherry lips cherry tongue dark like wet blood. coca-cola cafe crunch slurp ahhhh.

goodnight stars. xxx

I wonder

if I still had that brown leather purse I used to wear everywhere on the farm, carrying around anything an adventurer might need,
if then, would I still have the courage to explore, to not worry about being discovered and not think about rescue boats or didtheyknowwheretheplanewentdown but instead climb over rocks and through forests and blow through conch shells and choose leaders and watch it all burn?
barefeet and warm ponds and coral reefs and sweet, tasty freedom - no adults!
we might need to wear orange so the hunters won't get us, but really it's only to placate mom. you with your shotgun, and we've got one whole can of soda, this is really living. piles of huge dead trees, a cement city, a clay pit, haystacks and unsafe rooftops, a secret reserve of mud peninsulas and indian magic, two rachels and a summer. these are the things.

I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me

"I don't think I'm any deeper than her. I might be more articulate, or more sure of who I am, but deeper? No, I don't think so."

Muttering to myself in a British accent hour after hour, all these sidewalk squares to step on, geometrical imperfections on and on and on into the dark blue sky.

Getting over you has been hell, but I'm trying to let it go. I recall a thousand voices and a thousand raised fists, shouting out loud, MORE THAN YOU MORE THAN YOU KNOW. And I cheered just as loudly as the rest. I'm okay having you inside me, as long as I don't look back. I make it a strict policy never to regret anything. Not to say it doesn't take effort.

I've been dreaming of a rooftop in London. The air is chilly and the breath of four people fills the air. My pulse rushes like mad, I swear, and the other three look at me like I'm some wild thing they're unsure of. He sits on my head before I can jump and I'm just screaming profanities, until I realize maybe we can be something. I get all these ideas.

that feeling

I am so glad I will be back on set in less than a month; I don't think I can breath much longer without that feeling.

we've got some bad news, sir

"No one laughs at God on the day they realize
That the last sight they’ll ever see is a pair of hateful eyes
No one’s laughing at God when they’re saying their goodbyes"

-regina spektor-

"paparazzi"

This kid is incredible incredible incredible.

terribly worried

"We're terribly worried about you."

She took a drag on the thin cigar she held in her hands. (She only liked the thin kind. But she detested cigarettes. They're bad for your health, she liked to say.)

The boy didn't say anything back. He rarely did. It was rather as if his mind was someplace else entirely.

She stared at him awhile, and he stared at the wall, and it could have gone on for awhile like this. (It generally did.)

A bird flew into the window just then, probably a mourning dove, because of the thickish noise it made when it whammed against the glass.

The woman and the boy were both staring at the window, now, almost as if they couldn't quite process such a quick thing happening.

"It'll be alright," the woman said vaguely. Whether she was speaking of the bird or the situation at hand, it was difficult to tell.

The end.


Alternate ending (to be inserted BEFORE and IN PLACE OF the bird entering the scene):

BUT THEN a miracle happened and everything changed and they were all happy as faeries and nothing bad ever happened to them again.

The end.

bruised knees

everything's alright it's alright it's alright it's alright

let's just stay.

(here.)