Shit, and I even started late. Ain't that the way it goes. Slam the gate, but not on your toes. I look to the ceiling and hope to see a spider crawling. They inspire me. Kindred spirits or some shit. I scuttle and hide in dark places, too. The sound of a truck hemoragging outside isn't helping. There are so many things that don't help. I think I should return to the sucker hole. The fishing place in my mind where it is always 75 degrees and sunny. Light breeze. Yeah, I'll live there. I'll round up all my spider friends and we'll go hunting. I'll hunt for bluegill. They can keep the mosquitos scared.
Now, the time has come for us to say goodbye. Swing your partner round and round. Then fall. Get up. Drink. Repeat. It's a fucking hoe-down.
A pebble falls on the silken pond surface, rippling out in even, hypnotic circles. They reach the edge, the gloomy, concrete barrier with its patina of moss, a frog wedged in between two chunks of rock. It’s green with brown spots and my brother dares me to pick it up but I’m afraid because of what Christine MacElroy said about the warts. She showed me her gnarled hand and said I’d end up like her if I did things like play with frogs and boys. But my brother says I’m stupid to listen to an old cow like her so I reach for it, squinching my eyes closed, feeling my fingers tighten against the smooth, smoother than I ever thought it would be, body. And it squirms away with a splash as it lands in the pond, sending ripples in the other direction, skittering off with a glumph as it disappears below the surface.ReplyDelete
KaBLAMMO. Ah, fuck you. You get to do this when you're all "just got off work and it's friday". I gotta start the shit in the morning when I'm all sleepy. (10am-ish) ;)Delete
Not only that, but I have beer.Delete
My brain moves slow, but this time it was intentional. I can go with this, brother. Pale light like freckles on spackled walls white-washed for decades. My fingers are all goofy. Still with a little of the pink nail polish from the last Spa Night with the girls. I wonder where they are now. I wish I had a thing that made my brain and body move faster so I could spin into a wonderment of electroliphic light. I don't think that's a word and by the way, I fucked your mother. You'd believe me though. If you could see the frambling light as it worms its way through the soft music I have playing. Which is probably really fucking loud because I was unkind to my ears. But somewhere there is a drum beating. I can feel it sure as the stutter I sometimes get when my heart beats. Not the kind they took me out of class for. Murmur, I believe it's called.ReplyDelete
It's about Main and 23rd when the whiskey punches him in the stomach, doubles him over and makes him grab for support.ReplyDelete
People in this neighbourhood find his an unusual stance but they're too polite to stop and draw attention to him. They keep moving,walking past him as he tries find something, anything, to hold on to that's not moving.
Luckily he's near the corner so he feels his way along the brick wall to the side of the building and finally to the alley in back.
He reaches it just in time. His knees buckle, he vomits and loses control of his bowels. Laying in the sparse grass under beside the garbage cans he rests. Out of the way, out of sight, out of his mind.
Oooh, that last line is sick. Nice one. I used to know that guy. ;)Delete
If it only was a dark and stormy night - but no, the sun shone, the sky was blue, the bloody birds tweeted their stupid heads off in delight from the bird table. How was I supposed to get out now, with all the guests looking at me like the fat bridesmaid no one wants to get off with at a wedding.ReplyDelete
"What? I only said, thank God she got her nose fixed." Like they weren't all thinking that. Like you can't say that at an eight year old's birthday party. Could have been worse, at least I didn't say anything about how no one is really sure who her Daddy is, least of all her Mummy.
That was the awesome. Bloody birds. ;) Thanks for stopping by!Delete