February 7th, 2004


(no subject)

Describe an event from your childhood, without using the word "childhood."

remember that yellow bicycle that you fixed so i could reach the brakes? remember when i got lost? remember when i looked and acted like a little boy with the crew cut and army tags and no shirts? do you? i hope so, because i don't. by the sounds of things and the box of frozen memories, i wish i could remember. i wish i could go back and stay that way forever. bruises instead of sadness and scraped knees instead of guilt and disappointment. i want to be able to laugh anywhere and anytime i want. i want to watch cartoons again. i want to be a head short so i can't go on a certain ride at the amusement park. i want to trip and fall.

i want out.

(no subject)

Describe an event from your childhood, without using the word "childhood."

Life was like an ocean, and I was the swimmer, so little and insignificant. Endless hours of Barbies, of creating stories in which I would forever lose myself. The tape recorder marking down my voice, a babyish story in times long forgotten. A blanket, a stuffed cat, the ticket to my fancy. My house was built of wooden bricks, my soul free to roam the endless fields of my condo. Two pig tails dancing with the wind, as I swung the day away, closing my eyes and singing about sparkles and rainbows and everything no one else had time to sing about.

I saved my cousin from a blizzard in the middle of summer, and we were married three times. I was Underwater Girl and I could see the end of the universe...

I liked to dance and I liked to laugh and I loved to cry over little things.

Center of attention---
Touched by dreams---
Lost in imagination---

It was my job to save the world and it was my duty to smile while doing so.
It was my job to create fantasies from innocence and my duty to make them last as long as the day was long.

But, alas, I am now retired.

(no subject)

Describe an event from your childhood, without using the word "childhood."
in a purple friendship booklet
dated back to fifth grade,
a question:
the kind of secret you never tell?
&lightly penciled in:
"a big secret"--

a secret so big that
it is buried below a mess
of pink hair ribbons
and lime knee socks
that litter her bedroom floor,
until her shining golden guns
corrode into piles of dirty rust

when she depends upon moments of solace
to find space to breathe;
when remembrance would cost everything,
she can't afford to lose;
when nothing comes
except the silence.

lurking beneath shadows
darkness of the night
creaking foot in the doorstep
nerves falling, shattered
breaking on the face of the ground
sure to be heard by ears
that belong on a face
that controls movement of a hand
that crawls under the blankets
and finds its way down
until prizes unavailable in cash
are found in a treasure trove.

but this is not a game of pirates
and arrr! matey, never comes
from gaping lips that part
because this is a game of
daddy plays dirty games
and daddy gets what daddy wants
until there is nothing left here
but this little
and fingers are raised to disgusting lips,
and promises are made
to never