first day

i like to pretend, when i see this girl's new face, and her new pictures. "this is my house. this is my baby. these are my things...

that they're for me. you know, an invitation.

sara keeps talking about how lonely she is. so when she gets that dress that's actually a nightie she tries it on without a bra and jokes about how translucent it is. she has them covered, you know, and says "are you ready!?"

moves her hands. and there they are, and they're fabulous. so when, i'm drunk i almost ask her to show me "in full glory" as we joke. and she talks about being lonely, so i wonder if it'd work--

or how will asks when we're walking through the city. he complains, he says he thought it'd be more fun and wants to know where all the cool people hang out and offers Turkish Delight to this man who asks for change.
how he asks, "what exactly's on your mind right now?" and i didn't even have to lie. i didn't even have to pretend i wasn't thinking about f*****g him, because i wasn't. that felt great.

then there's the way i leave these things for you, but it's when you ever leave things, and you never do, that i pretend they're for me, or that what exactly's on my mind right now is present-uh-ble.

but for the past week or so, i don't want to share much of anything with really, anyone. and it's not that you're excluded, it's not that you're in the special group of people with whom i do want to share (but no one is.)

at least for now, saying this or that to you, it's more like, how you go so long being lazy and then you want to load the dishwasher for just a minute. so you do, and then you go back to being lazy.

* * *

Dear,

the other night i dreamt you said something new, but it was incomprehensible. there's knowing you never will, deep down, which i fight, though it feels just fine and peaceful. the way the picture on the bottles of cod liver oil they have at work look so fine and peaceful. you wouldn't even guess it'd taste so bad just because of the picture. maybe it's the snowy fjords and the crispy water, as if it were called "cod river oil." fresh, cold. cold river oil.

TODAY I STARTED MY NEW JOB. this old man was so proud, two women told me "i love you," and one told me she had fibroids.

another one asked me how to make hot chocolate, but she didn't really listen when i told her.

© 2009 Francis Myerick

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Reviews

Abd-afeez

Am sorry to make a harsh critique but earnestly you were way off doing a good job. I just didn't connect with the piece and am very sure the problem is not with me but the piece. There were so many grammatical uncertainties in the piece made worse by structural flaws. The piece look disjointed with seeming multiple narrators and no distinct characterization. I seriously need you to revisit this piece and do a thorough edit.