tassel

I come to you from a darkened space as a mannequin in the dark of 1950s department store. A time-traveling mannequin. That’s explains my acute awareness of the year. The quiet, so deafening and distracting in its loudness. Perhaps a creak or two from the ventilation system – or a ghost. Dust motes swim silently in the air, gliding by unrefracted light. I am a jet ski laser focused on monuments, schilling sipping psilocybin, crying out, “Lord, please!”. It’s all too much. Rock-a-bye tumbling class, long legal sheet, pink pieces of paper. Christmas tree decorations and ornaments hang. There are rugs that cover large stretches of cold, concrete floor and on each end, a wrinkled tassel sewn in gold-hued thread. Pleasure pointers, pier-pushers. In to the dirty water I go. The Third River. Staples and tape and hot glue guns do not wash away sin, but stick to what needs to be stuck. Grinning at the mere thought of spinach-speckled teeth. Warmed unique Eunice after a cold spring day. Marching orders from high command. The greens and browns and camouflage to where it doesn’t blend in anymore. Riot city makes it rain and wait. Flowing, flowering, gasping, fawning. Paper hats at a fast food restaurants; The crinkles they make. Hand-cut fries. Steak frites. Marshland, traversing through with heavy boots. Dizzy spells. Unwell. Little bells ring on the sides of the rug and are disturbed when stepped on. Not wanting to forfeit or fear. Making me believe. 2010 iPod mini. The ones with all the different colors. Concepts change and evolve. I want a hammer. Reaching through dollhouse garage like a giant Godzilla dressed in pink, not understanding that I am terrorizing Barbie and all her friends and kids and her kids’ friends. Creamed corn served up slow. Piece the memories together like scrapbooked photographs; After school kitchen clubs where the atmosphere felt mildly jovial, but still annoyingly repressed. Pitcher filled with lemonade, skirting the table cloth, the waitress makes a fast recovery and pours expertly. Her nametag says “Tina” and she has curled, light-red hair and is wearing lipstick. The journey here was long.

Author: Roe

30. she/her. Songwriter & Trek Punk Soul™.

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