Walking down Haight Street. After grabbing a chocolate croissant, I talk to a bum about heaven and finding the path of least resistance. I give him a bite of my croissant, because he asks nicely. There's dew on the ground, and giant chess pieces float above me like clouds. Every now and then a piece moves. I wonder who's winning.
I say goodbye to the bum. Walking again, down a hill, I run into myself. Myself is wearing a colorful flannel and skintight jeans. Cigarette in hand. Myself is looking real good.
I offer myself a bite of croissant, because I think he may ask nicely. Myself says no. I shut my eyes.
"I love you," myself says.
I feel his words -- I mean really feel his words. Like nothing before.
"I love you too," I say.
When I open my eyes, myself is gone. I finish my croissant, because it looks so nice, then look to the sky: Checkmate.
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
smashed, unsmashed, resmashed
My cell phone and a five dollar bill are on the nightstand. Putting them both in my pocket, I think really hard about the nightstand. I hate it, I conclude. It reminds me of my ex-girlfriend. In fact, I think she may have even given me that nightstand when we broke up. I feel around my pocket, pressing my hand against my phone and five dollar bill, and pull out an axe large enough to chop down a giant Big Basin redwood. I could do a lot with that wood, like build a bridge or a really tall building, then sell the remains to a paper company.
I continue thinking about the wood obtained from a gigantic Big Basin redwood as I chop up the nightstand. I hack it into little, tiny pieces.
Afterward, I return the axe to my pocket, next to my phone and five dollar bill, and smoke a few cigarettes, sitting on the chopped wood, atop my thrown. A few cigarettes done, I throw them and the hacked pieces of wood out the window and wait for my new girlfriend to come home from Big Basin.
She saunters in about thirty minutes later, whistling some tune. I go to greet her and I see the nightstand I just smashed thirty minutes ago, unsmashed. She has a big smile on her face.
"I found this nice nightstand out front," she says.
"Oh good," I say. "We need one of those."
She sets the nightstand down. Her smile disappears.
"I also found your cell phone out front too," she says. "It's smashed. Did you drop it out the window?"
I continue thinking about the wood obtained from a gigantic Big Basin redwood as I chop up the nightstand. I hack it into little, tiny pieces.
Afterward, I return the axe to my pocket, next to my phone and five dollar bill, and smoke a few cigarettes, sitting on the chopped wood, atop my thrown. A few cigarettes done, I throw them and the hacked pieces of wood out the window and wait for my new girlfriend to come home from Big Basin.
She saunters in about thirty minutes later, whistling some tune. I go to greet her and I see the nightstand I just smashed thirty minutes ago, unsmashed. She has a big smile on her face.
"I found this nice nightstand out front," she says.
"Oh good," I say. "We need one of those."
She sets the nightstand down. Her smile disappears.
"I also found your cell phone out front too," she says. "It's smashed. Did you drop it out the window?"
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
new years eve confused
Front row seats for new years eve. Waiting for the fireworks. You show up sometime after nine. I call you Lily.
"Lily," I say, "are you ready to kiss me?"
"My name's not Lily," you say, "but I'll still kiss you. Just say when and where." You brush the hair out of your eyes.
Dick Clark's on TV, but we're nowhere near a TV. Instead, I look into your eyes. They're green, blue, brown, and red. In the right light, they sometimes look gray, like the insides of some TVs.
"Lily," I say, "I think we need to buy a TV."
"My name's not Lily, but I'll buy you a TV anyway."
There's a ball dropping somewhere, but we can't see it. Instead, I ask you to sit on my lap and whisper something in my ear. You countdown from 10 to 0. At zero, you look into my eyes.
"In the right light," you say, "I can see Lily in your eyes."
I think you're right.
"Lily," I say. "I think I love you."
"I love you too," Lily says.
We hold each other into the night, way past midnight. Lily falls asleep around three. When morning comes, we're still in the same moment. The skies are gray.
Still asleep, I wonder what color Lily's eyes are.
"Lily," I say, "are you ready to kiss me?"
"My name's not Lily," you say, "but I'll still kiss you. Just say when and where." You brush the hair out of your eyes.
Dick Clark's on TV, but we're nowhere near a TV. Instead, I look into your eyes. They're green, blue, brown, and red. In the right light, they sometimes look gray, like the insides of some TVs.
"Lily," I say, "I think we need to buy a TV."
"My name's not Lily, but I'll buy you a TV anyway."
There's a ball dropping somewhere, but we can't see it. Instead, I ask you to sit on my lap and whisper something in my ear. You countdown from 10 to 0. At zero, you look into my eyes.
"In the right light," you say, "I can see Lily in your eyes."
I think you're right.
"Lily," I say. "I think I love you."
"I love you too," Lily says.
We hold each other into the night, way past midnight. Lily falls asleep around three. When morning comes, we're still in the same moment. The skies are gray.
Still asleep, I wonder what color Lily's eyes are.
really, really grown up
First day of work. You wear jeans and roll a tight spliff on the bus while the other commuters stare at you. You smile proudly. I got a job at the bank, you say. You transfer to a streetcar and take that downtown. With the spliff in your ear and your briefcase in hand, you exit. The sky is bright, and the skyscrapers are really, really tall. You light up the spliff and start walking toward the bank. At a red light you put the roach in a baggie and the baggie in your pocket.
A few red lights later, a man walks up to you. Anything is something, he says, holding out a paper cup. He smells really, really bad.
You reach into your pocket and hand him the baggie, then you turn around and walk back toward the streetcar. Back home, the fog is really, really thick. You eat a chocolate doughnut and stare out the window at the fog. After that you roll another spliff, grab your briefcase, and run to the bus.
A few red lights later, a man walks up to you. Anything is something, he says, holding out a paper cup. He smells really, really bad.
You reach into your pocket and hand him the baggie, then you turn around and walk back toward the streetcar. Back home, the fog is really, really thick. You eat a chocolate doughnut and stare out the window at the fog. After that you roll another spliff, grab your briefcase, and run to the bus.
clouds and other things unseen
1. Your dad waited for you at the bus stop.
2. You spotted him a block away, but decided to get off anyway. You ran in the opposite direction. He ran after you. Much quicker, he caught up to you and tackled you from behind. You wrestled on the ground for a bit. Him: punching your stomach. You: biting his ear, spitting, yelling -- all at the same time.
3. You pushed yourself away and got up. He did too. "What are you doing here?" you asked. "I thought you were dead." You noticed a single cloud in the sky. "Your mother has cancer," he said. "It's time for you to come home." The cloud circled his head like a halo. "We are home," you said. You started walking away, but he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. "I'm tired of your games," he said.
4. "Come with me," you said. He followed you up two steep hills. The cloud came too. "We should have taken the bus," he said.
5. "We're almost there."
6. When you reached the cemetery it was his turn to run. And the cloud, which, it turned out, wasn't a cloud after all, chased him.
2. You spotted him a block away, but decided to get off anyway. You ran in the opposite direction. He ran after you. Much quicker, he caught up to you and tackled you from behind. You wrestled on the ground for a bit. Him: punching your stomach. You: biting his ear, spitting, yelling -- all at the same time.
3. You pushed yourself away and got up. He did too. "What are you doing here?" you asked. "I thought you were dead." You noticed a single cloud in the sky. "Your mother has cancer," he said. "It's time for you to come home." The cloud circled his head like a halo. "We are home," you said. You started walking away, but he grabbed your shoulder and pulled you back. "I'm tired of your games," he said.
4. "Come with me," you said. He followed you up two steep hills. The cloud came too. "We should have taken the bus," he said.
5. "We're almost there."
6. When you reached the cemetery it was his turn to run. And the cloud, which, it turned out, wasn't a cloud after all, chased him.
Friday, February 12, 2010
the golden rule
While waiting for the bell to ring, I decide to eat somebody.
I pick Jenny.
Come with me Jenny, I say. I have to show you something.
What? she says.
It's something special, I say, like a buried treasure.
She turns away, uninterested.
I go to the front of the classroom and pick up a yard stick. Walking back to Jenny's desk, her eyes are now big. I poke her once in the stomach and twice in the face, just below her eyes.
Owe, she says.
Let's go find that treasure now, I suggest.
Jenny looks around. No one seems to be paying attention to us. Okay, she says.
I take her to the closet and remove her clothes.
She doesn't say a word.
I begin eating her. I start with her legs and work my way up. When I reach her neck, her eyes finally close. There's blood everywhere. After I eat the last bits of skull, I let my stomach settle for a few minutes, then I immediately clean myself up and change my clothes with the extra pair I keep in my locker.
I return to class.
The bell finally rings, and the teacher enters.
Instead of taking roll, she goes to her seat, turning away from us. She doesn't speak. Finally, after a few moments of silence she turns around. Class, she says, I'm afraid you're all going to have to go home.
Everyone, including me, is stunned.
But why? someone asks.
I can't say, she says. Just follow me, single file.
We follow her and she leads us to the front of the school. There's a group of men standing by the janitor's closet, and I see the janitor handcuffed, sitting on the ground down the hall.
What happened? somebody asks.
Keep quiet, the teacher says.
There's a row of buses outside the school, waiting to take us home.
Upon getting on a bus, I burp then look around.
Who's next? I ask, grinning. Jenny was just a snack.
No one seems to hear.
I sit down and, as the bus starts moving, I walk to the back and eat three kids sitting in the back row -- Carl, Danny, and Lee. I don't stop there. I make my way back to the front of the bus, eating kids, row by row. When I get to the front, I eat the bus driver. I stop the bus, get out, and start eating everybody I see.
Men, women, children. Whatever.
After eating the 76th person of the day, I decide to take a nap. When I wake up, I'm back in the classroom waiting for the bell to ring. Turning around, I see Jenny again with her bright blue eyes.
Come with me, I say.
No, she shouts. Last time, you took me to the closet and ate me.
I won't this time, I promise.
She stares at me for some time, looking into my eyes.
Please, I say.
She gets up and I take her to the closet and take off her clothes and start gnawing on her toes.
Hey! she shouts. Start with my head this time. My feet are ticklish.
I pick Jenny.
Come with me Jenny, I say. I have to show you something.
What? she says.
It's something special, I say, like a buried treasure.
She turns away, uninterested.
I go to the front of the classroom and pick up a yard stick. Walking back to Jenny's desk, her eyes are now big. I poke her once in the stomach and twice in the face, just below her eyes.
Owe, she says.
Let's go find that treasure now, I suggest.
Jenny looks around. No one seems to be paying attention to us. Okay, she says.
I take her to the closet and remove her clothes.
She doesn't say a word.
I begin eating her. I start with her legs and work my way up. When I reach her neck, her eyes finally close. There's blood everywhere. After I eat the last bits of skull, I let my stomach settle for a few minutes, then I immediately clean myself up and change my clothes with the extra pair I keep in my locker.
I return to class.
The bell finally rings, and the teacher enters.
Instead of taking roll, she goes to her seat, turning away from us. She doesn't speak. Finally, after a few moments of silence she turns around. Class, she says, I'm afraid you're all going to have to go home.
Everyone, including me, is stunned.
But why? someone asks.
I can't say, she says. Just follow me, single file.
We follow her and she leads us to the front of the school. There's a group of men standing by the janitor's closet, and I see the janitor handcuffed, sitting on the ground down the hall.
What happened? somebody asks.
Keep quiet, the teacher says.
There's a row of buses outside the school, waiting to take us home.
Upon getting on a bus, I burp then look around.
Who's next? I ask, grinning. Jenny was just a snack.
No one seems to hear.
I sit down and, as the bus starts moving, I walk to the back and eat three kids sitting in the back row -- Carl, Danny, and Lee. I don't stop there. I make my way back to the front of the bus, eating kids, row by row. When I get to the front, I eat the bus driver. I stop the bus, get out, and start eating everybody I see.
Men, women, children. Whatever.
After eating the 76th person of the day, I decide to take a nap. When I wake up, I'm back in the classroom waiting for the bell to ring. Turning around, I see Jenny again with her bright blue eyes.
Come with me, I say.
No, she shouts. Last time, you took me to the closet and ate me.
I won't this time, I promise.
She stares at me for some time, looking into my eyes.
Please, I say.
She gets up and I take her to the closet and take off her clothes and start gnawing on her toes.
Hey! she shouts. Start with my head this time. My feet are ticklish.
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