I am a tattoo in the hillside.

favorite lines?

There is a girl who sits across the universe and stares at me. I can feel it. This tingling in the back of my eyes, but I don’t know what she’s thinking. I do the best I can, which is stare back across the continent, oceans, people doing people things in their respective time zones, crossing borders, dying for Someone’s God Knows What. On the Universal Tabletop we barter with the world. Like Gods playing craps for natural disasters we bluff until we know each other’s tell, an intimacy few people really know. We hate it. Want to take it back. Don’t want to know when she’s lying, don’t want to know why she’s staring at me like I’ve become a metaphor for death and dying and I’ve claimed her favourite grandmother before her time.

The earth’s core is thick with attempts to dig into China. No success as of yet. It doesn’t stop young children setting out to shores with shovels and a mind to make it through to the other side. Pop out in the street or the great wall perhaps and this will be my secret tunnel through the world. The can to string to can tree house communications system draws cobwebs now. Belongs in a museum.
The flowers on my windowsill are dying, petals lying dead on the sill. Still I haven’t watered it or thrown it away. The dried out stems sticking out of the Perrier 10 cents recyclable refundable. They really should be thrown out. In my free time I brush the fallen petals into my hand and drop them in the trash can. Waste tells a lot about a person. Like reading palms, read my trash. What am I like? I eat fruit rollups, got a package in the mail, wrote a note and discarded it. You, my dear. Well, let me see. You like junk food as evidenced by this nutterbutter wrapper. You went to a SLAM poetry event recently, see here this postcard? You’re forgetful, this is a notice that you missed your last appointment. Dear, you will graduate college with an unchanged procrastination habit, single, and one hangover that you definitely won’t tell your kids about. You’ll still be wearing Disney underwear though. You’re a lost cause there.

I wish I wish upon a star to die before the past tense catches up with me. Don’t want to be dying under sheets and daytime drama. Duck duck goose don’t want to know my noose. Bug off until I say I’m ready to quit my lying, writing, sneezing, laughing, Firefly watching.