"Dreams Like Methamphetmine
On the Bearskin Rug in Front of the Fireplace"
The baby at first looked like a Barbie doll with a short brown bob haircut, and skin like candle freshly dipped into french peach caviar wax. Touch it and the skin smeared, then hardened into a new position, marbled like ruined Roman statues; extraterrestial capabilities. I didn't want this thing but felt many pressures not to simply throw it into the duck pond within sight. If I crossed the bridge I was sure I wouldn't control my fingers from letting go, releasing this unexpected gift of the new morning. Unavoidable torment. I crossed under the veranda and saw vase sitting on a flat square post of a banister. The glass bled water, and soon was filled half way. My baby was getting thristy, her makeup melting. I stuck her in the vase and saw the color return to her face, the greenish hue of skin transforming as the water sucked upward through her periwinkle veins. Understanding my power for good, I went to the kitchen to tell the others, without shame,what I had done. "Britt, hey how's it goin?" Ben asked with breath and sincerity, a smile perking his youthful expression, his hair curling into his square lenses. "Ya know, things are okay," I offered. I smiled, looked down, hands upon the hips, "Ben" laughing, " I had a kid today. I did. I just had a kid." " "Holy shit!!! Really? Wow, Britt, that's like, wow. I'm just so surprised." "Yeah, I know," I coyishly grinned, secrets of the past shared in dual glances to the pavement. I didn't think I was ready, and I was nervous because I forgot when I had a chance when there were other options. Maybe fewer people realize they're pregnant before it's too late and you sit on the toilet to take a shit, and after 3 weeks of gestation, a little wad of perfectly developed flesh slowly feather petals down to the floor of the toilet. And it hurts and you cry and people are disappointed but thank GOD you're still fertile and have five more children to your bitter sister's dismay. Now she makes Christmas ornaments in October out of crystals bought wholesale, because they sparkle and glimmer in the afternoon light of English style Pomona hill-top mansions. She doesn't understand the pain of considering the infinite pros and cons of reaching over to the silver lever...to flush or not to flush.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment