yesnothankyou

I hang around in the doorway and you're holding court. Dust floats in a slice of light, those overgrown flowers clap against the glass. Your little audience. You were doing it again, you were scheming and all the rest. This isn't a folktale anymore, I've got to play fair. We're all just something with bodies, remember? I don't know, I keep getting it confused, get dragged back to the ground every time. Well then you took us all to that party but we didn't stay for long because that stuff was never enough. Everything's real weird and violet, the night's overflowing with ornaments. bright, a beam, something too hot to touch. all those clicking fixtures and we're so hungry for them. Pay attention, do you see what I'm doing? The gravel pops and cracks beneath our feet. sparks and stars, a river of sharp things. The rest of them are throwing rocks into a ditch like coins in a fountain made of earth, unlocking wishes beneath the pine trees. I've got my hands in my pockets and you're playing with a lighter. little licks of fire between your fingers, unthinking, bloomed then extinguished. You're trying to give it a word and we both know we've got to give that shit up already. You think that's complicated. Sure, usually. When I remind you about all this later you say something about how it's not fair to miss a memory but it's real fun. What does fairness have to do with it anyway? small doses are for beginners, I'm so sick of that kind of thing. Back in the lot you change the subject. Want to race me instead? Yeah, of course I do. The sidewalk claps beneath our feet like the flowers on the pane, everything's always just another audience for something else. You outrun me but your legs are longer, you could always cut through distance better than me. I'm not resentful, I have my own ways of taking space. I know things about distance that you don't know about at all. you'll see. If I'm a thief what does that make you? You shake your face out in the lawn, ready to go, ready to burn it up, jangle it, give you everything. You're so kept and it's perfect. I smooth my hands over my jeans. okay, I'm ready too.

and wasn't it the timber of partially open hi-hats? didn't it sound inexact but good? wasn't it a gunshot of excitement and relief? wasn't it a crowd that we ran through, and didn't they love us, weren't we their favorite show? wasn't it a birthday cake, pink and fantastic? My heart just does what it was meant for. I don’t know what else to tell you.