(no subject)
golly golly miss molly. I miss GSW. I miss unconditional love. I miss Santa Ana winds. I miss the sheen of baby oil on Yasemin and I. Turkish meatballs and rice pilaf. Fried fish. Rose jam. Oh god, remember climbin the walls? We were on no man's land. How I loved you, friend. I miss climbing trees. Catching raccoons with fish hooks. Making wonderlands out of refrigerator boxes. Brussel sprouts, Dee. Senor Valdez y la poema que no tiene fin. Being one of many. Zero period PE because we liked it. Miss my mama. That house in Balboa Park. Mud pies, babe. He stole her necklace. Remember when she wore that chartreuse suit and it was your birthday and she still drove the little honda and how she howled because she'd lost her mind and fuck you if she was gonna lose her jewels. Shooting down slopes on my pink rollerblades. Smacking trashcans because I'm only 12, mama and I cannot figure out the rubber brakes. That wet dark square of loamy earth out back. You'd smoke your cigarette in the morning, stroke my hair, tell me I was your pumpkin. we planted ferns and watched them grow. every morning. the laundry room with the eerie faces- told me they were leftovers from some goth's heyday. feeding wasabi to hissing gulls. your babies went crabbing on the rocks in del mar and he fell in and his shoes dyed his feet blue and you chortled because it wouldn't wash off. old town and the trolley. and that deep rumble I got in my belly when you took us somewhere new. head down, in a crowded place, i smelled your perfume the other day and i looked up, searching for your stringy blonde hair and i sobbed little spasms in my throat because it wasn't you.
and now what?
a flat line.
and now what?
a flat line.