Me, Bird

When I make this face I turn into a bird. I did it once at 7 AM and it stuck forever. My arms become wings and my feet become bird feet. I fly away with the sun. I never melt, I never go home. I turn. Ack into myself when I make this face, and then the night goes on. Again I might be a bird, I might be something else. I don't know when I'll be me.

Big City Shut it Down

This is a big city, you'll never find her.

What do you know?

I know this is a big city, and you're inching your way toward stalker.

Shut it.

Made for TV movie.

Stop.

Time not served.

That's not even a thing.

You'll make it a thing. They'll write books about you. Songs about you.

Shut it.

TV movies, Jack, TV movies. Name your washed-up actor. Hope you've had good haircuts.

They never show the whole story.

People don't want whole stories. They want interesting stories. They want blood. What do you want?

I don't know.

Yes, you do.

Shut it.

Shut it.

Shut it.

Down.

Yes.

Broke

I dropped the bottle and it broke and I was disappointed. Whenever a bottle or glass breaks I want it to be because I smashed it on the ground or chucked it at the wall, not because it slipped through my fingers. But I never smash a bottle and I never chuck a glass, and so I am always disappointed.

I unspooled paper towels onto my hand and finished off the roll. Transferring the wad to underneath my foot, I glided out in circles over my kitchen floor. Give me my Olympic gold.

I want my anger to mean something. I want it to sink in. If I'm going to a dark place let me do it my way, let me bring a little light, a little pain, and a little broken glass.

When We Stopped Being Happy

When we stopped being happy things were great. The weight was lifted off our shoulders, not to mention the other parts of our bodies. We didn't have to worry about pleasing each other or anybody else, but if we did that was fine. Bedtimes and rise-and-shines shifted as they did. We weren't angry at things anymore. We ate when we were hungry, and we drank to wash things down. We didn't force the happiness, and it didn't always come. But when it did it was good and true and right. A little goes a long way.

Summer

Summer is my full moon. After the thaw, as the days get longer and the skirts get shorter, I transform into a seething, drooling, hairy fool.

Hypnotized by the swinging pendulum of a ponytail, its rhythm chanting back in my direction, nope, nope, nope, nope, nope...

I should have stayed behind.

A Mask for Winter

It rained that day. The snow melted and padded the land for the rain. Slush and grime. And then cold, a damned sudden drop. Thick and cold and frozen. And then snow, a layer light and beautiful, a winter mask.

They couldn't see, they didn't know. They felt as though this day had come before. And indeed it had, and it would again. Were they prepared? No. What did they learn? Nothing. The glass and metal twisted and broke, the clothes were black. Tears froze midstream down each cheek. Flowers, and flowers, and flowers. The same thing.

No More Christmas

No more cookies, no more socks, no more bows on every box. No more paper trails and chunks, no more morning Christmas funks. No more chimney, no more sweep, no more sleepy souls to keep. No more merry, no more light. No more "It will be all right" to tell my children as they go. And no more anything but no.