Aug 24, 2013

One Way Ticket to Mars

God, I'd kill for some pancakes right now. My gum lost all it's flavor hours ago yet I keep chewing it because, it turns out, you never know when there will be more chewing gum. I've noticed that they've downplayed the scarcity of things like chewing gum out here. Which is fine. I get it. I mean, I'm ok if I never chew gum again, it's just that I wish they'd be more upfront about it. Because never knowing which piece of chewing gum will be my last has become weirdly unsettling for me.

Yesterday was kinda–odd. I don't want to say "bad". I don't know. I don't want to be negative or anything, but I watched the Earth get smaller and smaller until it became nothing more than a blue twinkling out in space–just a dot among a million other dots and stars. This fell on the 'Scale of Awfulness' somewhere between 'Bad' and 'Completely Terrifying'. But I was good. I just put another yellow pill under my tongue and waited. That always helps. They said it helps and to use it and I do. They've never led me wrong. "Bye-bye, Earth", I said. "Bye-bye".

What I like about not needing to eat or bathe anymore is that, for the time being at least, as long as I remain totally low maintenance and easy going, I could literally stare off into space all day long if I wanted and no one, I mean no one, would bat an eye. It's almost as though we are cargo. Human cargo being carted through outer space on the biggest rig imaginable. They just have to get us there. Then they'll relax. And when they relax, we'll relax. And that's all people want, when you think about it. To just finally relax. 

Aug 10, 2013


zipping rolling gliding
bouncing conveying   
everything fitting into one bag 
sound breakfast sandwich
choice making  
running skating 
through corridors 
having it all 
having this bottle of water
having this chapstic 
I am 
finally lint free 
I am 
practically at my gate
newly dedicated 
thinking space
now artificially improved
cleared for take off 
clicked in
considering water bottle
regarding pretzels
enduring tolerating
chapstic located

Aug 3, 2013

Cake and Coffee Reception

The tv in the white finished basement 
at the cake and coffee reception
was turned down, that day
I saw a sparkling sponge mop 
glide across a floor,  
I saw the game show host  
hold his microphone like a magic wand,
the cake, decorated with yellow roses, 
was brought officially down,
the coffee urn's orange light: ready to go,
there was the sound of bangles tinkling 
of nylons, of rayon   
of gold cigarette lighters clicking
of puffing 
of forks clinking 
of metal folding chairs scrapping the twinkling 
white terrazzo tile 
as the cutting 
of the first communion cake squares 
and there were not enough yellow roses
to go around 
and a few girls in white veils 
looked tired of smiling
they got white gift wrapped boxes
they got hearts and crosses
white velvet
diamonds and gold.