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Thursday, February 19, 2009

GIRLS AT PLAY Part 1 - Published in the print journal First Intensity


I. Venetian Blinds
You said mauve you did say mauve shouted MAUVE while I was in the closet going through red you blamed me kept on saying red is a sick joke, red is too loud!. I was so nervous with the neutral colors which was hard ‘cause HE was around the one you said you adored who loved beige curtains will always and he kept on saying NO RED he was so loud my ears hurt my eyes hurt. Well I knew nothing at the time never imagined red would scare you and you would never know why but obviously some time long ago nothing to do with me or even him; and of course you were taking HIS side, HIS side; he had such violet eyes, you couldn’t help but fall into his shallow lap his eyes had that affect on us all even Gertrude and of course HE denied violet, said his eyes were brown like dairy cows like used cars denied the “passionate extravagance” of Red; he said but he was once a church boy and still is really, you know but he did so love Drambuie, so you denied RED and so I laughed at you and you made yourself into a ball I think you were crying and then shouting MAUVE so hilarious as mauve doesn’t SHOUT. And then there I was in the closet I forget when but it seemed a long time I was looking for a new dress to display my new body after bulimia, so svelte, blaming you for fucking INDIGO shit I mean indigo so incredibly pretentious so I said hah hah indigo, don’t you mean CERULEAN and you said Bitch I bet you voted for … not the one I was wanting ‘cause YOU you said are so myopic myopic means near-sighted you said I said. And I said Bitch you’re fuckin jealous ‘cause I look so fuckin damn good in black and then you opened the closet door and I slammed it and I heard you walk away loud as ever in those stupid angry orange stiletto heels and I never ever saw you again never did and I don’t regret it never as I slither along the streets with the Silver man yes the Silver man, your father, hah, your father the one you haven’t seen in so many years, you father-fucker, he’s more beautiful than HE the one with the brown eyes like shit the one you love LOVE is excrement and you can never ever have your father . . . and you never ever expected this twist but then you never knew. But then I think sometimes in the middle of the night all bathed in black and blue I think of you and well I wouldn’t say what I think I feel if I knew; you are gone and I remember a soft even tender color I forget which . . .

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