She was strange and
out of place here.
There she danced with
out moving a lot
I saw her clothes, I saw her dress
She doesn't belong, they said, she's neat,
That girl who is a collage.
She's scrumpled vegan pepperoni
added extra cheese with capers
peppers anchovies and hair of dog.
Unsavoury, your mouth leaps
through your heart and smiles to see her outline, jagged
She won't fit in to the rest of the scene comfortably.
It was strange and out of place, the broken lantern on the floor of the clearly modern home, but we moved on through anyway. You could smell the rotten body across the hall. My partner and I search everywhere for a sign of some murder or gang-related drug bust. In this part of town, hell... in this apartment building, things were like that. "She looks so young," he said to me as we moved around the room. "Looks," I said. "She was forty." He looked up, "How do you know?" I passed him a piece of thin cardboard, "Happy 40th birthday," I recited. The card was dated today. He set the card back down and scribbled a name he made out from the chicken scratched card. I sighed. "Happy birthday."
She was strange and out of place, as she sat around the large oaken table and looked them each in the eye. They were all dressed up and made up and she didn't care. Their eyes were caked with makeup and their smiles blindingly bright as they passed around the turkey and cranberry sauce and talked about how wonderful life is. Wait, wasn't grandma bitching for half an hour yesterday about a car that cut her off? Why is she wearing this smile now, and speaking so enthusiastically of the kindness of strangers? Wait, didn't mom spend hours and hours of her life crying and lamenting over the loss of her husband, that man, and somehow now, all of a sudden, God has blessed her life? Wait, didn't brother spend all last night crying in her arms over the loss of his best friend in a stupid, petty, elementary school fight and now he's thankful for being close to him again?
Her eyes fill with tears at the lies flowing around the table, as the food passes by her and the aromas make her gag. Thanksgiving, my ass. Every day, she spends hours praying to God and thanking Him for everything, and now, everyone around her is clouding her ideals and making everything that she believes, that she has ever believed in, lies. Her facade crumbles and she runs out crying, while the liars sit around smiling, wondering what is happening with the beautiful, honest young girl.
Realist, maybe. Honest, maybe. But strange, and definitly out of place.
"Strange and out of place is how I've been feeling," she says to the open window. Outside her front window is the embodiment of mental illness — someone to dance with, scream with, run with... fly with, even. "Like everything I do is hollow. Not, 'hallow,' because I'm certainly closer to Lucifer than God. But, I feel like I give all the magic I have in me. There's got to be someone out there, lover or not, who can replenish the electricity in my blood stream."
"Strange and out of place, why? Why do you give yourself up for those who cannot give you a damn thing? If you're looking for someone to dance with, you'll have to look for a trainwreck."
"I'm looking out my window, aren't I? But, don't blame me for my emptiness. It's not totally me, you know. It's you, it's them, it's the season, it's—"
"Everything but you, baby, everyone but you." He smiled, and turned down the walkway. He growled at the alligator-impersonating snake, and made his escape with magic tricks. He was so foreign here, too, that it was cruel of him to judge my feeling. But, it is a time of thanksgiving. There is some lesson in this that I will later remember. There must be with him, there always is.