we should do this again. i finally have the internet at my house now! i'm so excited and happy, even though now i realize how many people i've totally abandoned when i hardly used it at all, except for school.
my mother is changing the entire house, room by room no furniture must be the same as my father left it all his suits are in garbage bags papers and files in a box that sags
my mother says when men are old, they turn cold i wake up and hear the phone slamming she says all she has ever felt for all these years was alone. her big soft hands stitching up my skirts, down the drain swirls bottles and bottles of my father's cologne.
all day we cleanse our home, and our minds of him.
my baby brothers are all grown, video games and video games and video games i'm keeping secrets of my own boys in the dark boys at the parties pushing, pushing
my mother's tears make me feel old and tired my father's voice- ringing all day with everything but his overdue apologies i'm as clear as a glass cup forgetting everything except the soft glow of the hanging lamp our hearts in grinders, getting shook up kissing a mouthful of smoke my skeleton hands inside his rough palms envious of his rocking hips our tongues taste like mint and cherry shoving, biting, sucking air out through his lips
my life is pinned against a mime's wall sneaking up to his apartment through the back up the fire escape, air vents dripping from the heat he owns two slinking cats, staring at us with their poker faces and their wide green eyes. my thighs against his corduroys he knows all my scars and bruises, i need a new disguise.
my mother tells me she hasn't sat down the whole day she's chopping and tossing and sauté-ing salty tears dripping into the pan my mouth is a flower bruise thinking about how we dressed each other back up in the dark fumbling and touching like blind men my brothers sit and stare at screens all day i stare at them all, no longer knowing what to say.
Hip hooray for true love that's unconditional just your baby, no pistol by your side nothing wrong with a love of god traditional making bridges or shoestrings all with pride silver and gold obsessionals pilfering's become an art war and deceit professionals and it breaks my heart, or am I just
One more late, great dinosaur hip hooray for the solid citizensational hale to Caesar and praise to God on high I'm working hard but I got two weeks vacational made me mad when melodic music died