She would run to get lost in the breeze and to let it all go with a sigh.  It would all catch up to her, but in the moment, the sound of the ocean, her footprints, and her heartbeat were one.  She existed to be free.  Sometime she noticed the markers and tried not look back.  Counting them can get you stuck.

So many years ago when her body only ached if she scraped her knee,  and freedom was a feeling she took for granted.  She was sure that she didn't even recognize that giddy drug like feeling that floated her heart.  She can't remember what their parents were thinking.  Their parents, his and his sisters, and her parents.  She and time were cruel to her body, and she couldn't recall the reason.  Maybe it was when their youngest brother was being born.

There was pizza, sugar, candy, sugar, popcorn, movies, pillow fights, this boy, and sugar.  They stayed up as long as they could because nothing was going to stop us.  High on sugar, caffiene, and glorious freedom. The younger kids went to sleep first.  It was her and this boy and some movie about something.  This boy who made the world disappear when they kissed.

He was smiling at her so she smiled back and turned her eyes back to that thing they were watching on the TV.  He was still smiling at her when she turned her eyes back to him.  She remembered their first kiss underneath the eucalyptus trees.

"I have shingles."  He said not touching the area under his arms.

"I know."  She giggled.

"It hurts."  He whispered.

"I won't hurt you." She promised and pulled herself to a kneeling position.  She looked down on him from the couch and admired his face.  She thought he was cute and he introduced her to the concept of seaweed as a snack.  That made him cool.  She leaned forward to kiss him on the lips; this time a little less sweet than before..  She had learned to use her tongue.  He grabbed her face to prevent her from pulling away, but she could have if she wanted.

"I have shingles." he sighed.

"I know." She smiled, laid back on the couch, and pulled her Strawberry Shortcake blanket to her chin.  "Good night."

Then she was running again.  The same beaches.  The same ocean.  The marker further away.  She thinks that there should be more like this one, because then she wouldn't have to run as fast to get back that freedom.

The sound of music from places near and far filled the air. 
Different places, some of them familiar and some of them not. 

And smells from different places coming from booths that weren't there the day before. 
Cotton candy
spices,
cinnamon
corn
eucalyptus.

The women smiled at her when her head popped into their booth. 
"What do you want?" the lady asked her.
 She really only wanted the bread. 
The girl raised her eyebrows.
"You want everything."  The lady smiled.
The girl frowned and bravely took a bite.
"What's this green stuff?" She asked.
"Guacamole."  The woman with the eyes that smiled said.
"Guacamole"  The girl repeated and ran away.

And the dancers danced to music and words from all around the world
their costumes in colors in combinations she'd never thought of
she knew some of the songs
she knew some of the places
she knew her friend had to try this thing
and her friend did, but she told her to buy her own

Cesar Chavez
Hear me roar
and this
and that
and other things
that seemed to make the adults stir in their seats
"Why so serious?"

where did the music go, she wondered
but not for long
"let's play baseball" someone screamed
and they were off

Divided into teams
based on
one potato

and her team was getting its ass kicked
the ball flew over their heads and over the fence
we'd find a way to call them cheaters she thought

She watched him jump to the top of the fence.
He reached his hand down to her.
"come with me." he smiled
She thought "silly, boy what do you need my help for?"
she took his hand anyway.

He trips her as
Her sandals fail
She says stop!
I'm a girl...
Whose fingernails are made
Of mother's pearl...

Summertime Rolls

He causes them to tumble over the fence
into the grass and eucalyptus leaves
He uses her hair to bring her face closer to his
and kisses her
she laughs and strokes his cheek
and kisses him back

The music disappeared
but this time there was no Cesar Chavez
or Roaring or other things that weren't a part of her world
just this kiss
and this boy
that tasted like cotton candy, grape gum, and salt.

His fingers traced the stupid training bra her mother made her wear
and she let him for a minute
but then she grabbed the ball and threw it back over the fence
She jumped to reach the top
She could jump that high after all.
She reached for his hand
"let's play baseball" she smiled.
and he pushed her over the fence.

Yellow buttercup
Helicopters
Orange buttercat
Chasing after
The crazy bee
Mad about somebody...

Summertime Rolls

A piece in which a small town festival is central. 5 pts....o wait the festival was supposed to be central.  Sorry,  Erika is recalcitrant.
@anvilsandedelweiss

You know you are bored when temptation is the desire to kill your neighbor's lorikeets.  You would think that one was enough, but the damn bitch had 10.  She was always being nice to me, too.  I get that she was a lonely old lady, probably somebody's grandma, both those fuckers should come and talk to her then.  Those damn squawking birds. 10 of them.

I like to smoke on my balcony.  It's my balcony when I pay the rent, ain't it. You'd think it.  She'd come out all sunshine and bitter, stale, vagina and tell me about how I shouldn't smoke.  Well, damn your stupid fucking birds shouldn't keep me awake all night.  So, I have a vendetta against some birds, amongst other things, but the birds were at the top of my list.

So technically, it's not my apartment.  It's some dudes and maybe I would let him be my old man if he'd stop leaving me with his fucking brat; especially since that bitch's birds don't know what shut the fuck up means no matter how many fucking times I bang on the floor.  I hated that brat.  What the fuck was wrong with its mother?  Did I look like a babysitter?  I ain't complaining though.  The gig would be good if it weren't for those birds. 

"Cheese soup is not breakfast." quoth the snotty brat...quoth...you like that shit?  I can be a smart ass bitch if I want.

"It is when I give it to you."  I frown.  "or you can just be hungry you little prick."

"Are you going to put on some clothes?" what was his name asked. Don't worry, I knew its name.  It's my story and I'll tell it however I like.  If you don't like it then go complain to my downstairs neighbor.  She hates me, too.

"I'm sorry your daddy fucks whores little shit."  I did try to be nice to the kid once or twice, but then he pissed me off about something I don't remember.  Yea, I did call its mom a whore.  She is.  I mean where the fuck was she?  and where the fuck was he?  I fantasized about killing those fucking birds with cyanide, but I might kill the old bitch, too.  I didn't feel like going to fucking jail.

"What time do I need to pick you up?"  I frown. "and do I really fucking have to.  Don't they have buses anymore?"

"I have a baseball game after school."  It tried to eat the canned cheese soup.  Ingrate. I put the shit in the microwave and everything.  "Will my dad be there?"

"Do I look like the psychic hotline?" Those birds...those mother fucking birds.  "Are you done with that shit?"  He didn't answer fast enough so I put my cigarette out in it.  To drop it off at the Jr. High School or Middle School or wherever bloody fucking brats go.

It whined all the way there, too.  Did I have to get out?  Couldn't I get some damned pants.  A bikini top is not a blouse.  Will my dad be there?  Will he be there?  Wah! wah! wah! Brat.  I fucking hope so because I don't think I could handle another night of whining and squawking.  I did get out.  I got out and smoked a cigarette with the music blaring just to piss them off.  They all knew who I was.  Bitches.

I could do better.  I think I could do better.  There was this guy that taught a ceramics class at the community college.  Do people really waste their money on that shit?  I was getting bored with this gig anyway.  Especially, those damned birds.  He might be even more boring, but he didn't have no kids or ex-wife baggage.  Like I said, did I look like a babysitter?  I was just waiting on him to fucking call me, but if he didn't, I always find someone else.

So I get home, well, what I was calling home.  I just wanted to be left in peace until he came home or I had to go get his brat.  He had some redeeming qualities you know and most of them involved sex.  All I knew was he had better not knock me up or else he'd have to find some other skank dumb enough to watch two little shits for him.  Knocked up...not this woman.  The knock at the door should have went unanswered, but when your idea of temptation is to kill your neighbors birds, you do anything for excitement.

Two of them. A male and a female.  They kept making eyes at each other and then looking guilty about it. It was fairly humorous really. They were there to witness to me or share good news or some shit.  They held some kind of literature or pamphlet, it didn't matter to me.  Jehovah's Witnesses, Scientologist, Vacuum Cleaner salesman.  "Please, come in." I smiled and lead them to the den. "Sorry its such a mess." I lie, but what did they know? They were Jehovah's Witnesses.  I offer them a drink and no I did not bring them a beer, or wine, or a Pepsi for giggles and shits.  I brought them some lemonade.  It was just Kool-Aid or some store named shit, but whatever.  They smiled.  "Am I making you uncomfortable. I can put on a shirt."  I pretended to be embarrassed by my nakedness.  They said that it was OK.  They had only come to bring m good news and I had no need to worry about Jehovah torturing me for my wicked ways. I listened to their Truth with tears in my eyes for it was just the call I needed.  I wanted to be saved from my wicked ways but I had to escape first.  I knew I was alone and could go at any time, but I had to get my birds back first.  The three of us could move them in their cages.  The male one seemed a little skeptical, but the girl one horrified by my tale of torment, and yes even the old lady that took my birds tormented me convinced him otherwise, though he still seemed skeptical and thought we should just call the police.  I thought Jehovah's Witnesses didn't believe in technology.  Lying sacks of shit.

They did help me get those fucking birds and I told them I  would indeed call them when I reached the shelter.  I had to wait for my son.  Thank God my would be old man left pictures of his little shit around and he had a fucking type.  I was prettier than that bitch though.

Those stupid birds stopped squawking.  I wonder if they knew what they had coming.  Probably fucking not.  They probably squawked because that old bat pissed them off, too.  Stupid childish shithead.  Complain about my fucking cheese soup.  I hope he likes lorikeets because that's what he was having for dinner and I would sleep peacefully in domestic bliss.

48. A piece incorporating: Jehovah's Witnesses, baseball, lorikeets, cheese soup, ceramics class, waiting for a phone call.

7 pts

@anvilsandedelweiss

How to Eat Glass

You bargain with God
which turns out to be a joke
All the starving
and dying
and suffering
that He can't hear

You sell your soul to the devil
the pain leaves with your heart
and you love to cut your tongue
on the same glass sharp mouth
whose words shattered you

(#8 3pts)

@anvilsandedelweiss
whoops...it said story not poem.  I'll fix it later...then again, I like it how it is so I won't..deduct points.

We lived on a small Army Depot with maybe only 30 families, except in the summer time when a few retirees would come in their campers with their grandchildren in tow.  Then there would be more kids to play with and more fun to have.  I was 11 then, and all about having fun.  The new girl was more fun than the other girls.  We would play all day, climbing trees, running for no reason, and swimming.  We laughed at the torture we inflicted upon our dolls.  Even after the other  more civilized girls tried to convince me that she had lice, we played.  You gotta love girls.  One girl was particularly vicious.  I guess she felt replaced.  Which was silly, but I guess I just thought to rationally for my own good.

(source)

 
Seeing the weblog about Mark Twain reminded me of her and her grandparents.  They were awesome people.  Having arranged with all of our parents, he decided that he would read us bed time stories...under the California night sky.  Big stars.  Bigger moon.  Underneath the sequoia and eucalyptus trees he would read to us Mark Twain.  We gathered by his camper and huddled on a single metal picnic table.  His wife announced that her husband could not be there, but she had a fascinating friend that she wanted us to meet.  Out comes Mark Twain, pipe and all.  He introduced himself and told us he was going to share with us one his favorite pieces of work.  If I were one of the younger kids, I thought I might have believed he really was Mark Twain, that had traveled from the past.  I wondered which of the stories that I had already read he would read.  He read the Mysterious Stranger.  One that I had never read, but was so much better than the ones we talked about in school.  A chapter a night.  No matter ho much we pleaded with Mr. Mark Twain to read more, he would disappear into the camper and out would come the man we knew.  Even if you were old enough to know better, you went along with the man pretending to be confused and apologizing for not reading us our story.  We would cook hot dogs, make s'mores, or roast marshmallows on the fire.  He would show us his telescope, to teach us about the worlds beyond ours.  He talked to us about Lowell's Martian Canals and scientific progress.  He fueled my love for science and literature even further.  We need more people like them in the world. 

I really did repeat those words over and over again in my head and watched birds forever to envy their freedom.

Apophasis

The sky is dark

she thinks she may have really been indestructible

but the lunacy of the night is wearing off

she can't really fly

and might not be funny to be punched in the face

but it would hurt less than vicious words

his fingers inch towards hers

"why are you still here?" he whispers

"Why?"

"You had every right to just walk away after what I said."

"after what I almost did to you."

His fingers graze hers.

"Why are you still here?" he asks again.

She turns to him and presses his fingers gently against the scar on his face

he won't let her touch it.

he has never let her touch it.

"You told me not to leave and I was afraid to not stay." she whispers

"because I told you not to leave."  he chuckles.

He places his hand on top of hers and runs her fingers over his scar.

She pretends to feel nothing.

He chuckles again.

"We are so dysfunctional" he says.

She thinks that she is not indestructible.

He is not indestructible.

We are not indestructible.

She almost smiles.

"We should let your roommate back in. It's cold outside." she says.

DOWP Apophasis @pallidpen

It's yours, it's mine

Cause I'll do anything and...

I'll take the blame

Baby, you're dying.

Sugar Coma, Hole

(Just because it is becoming a tradition for me)

Today Kadayah convinced my mom that I am the most inept parent on the face of the planet.  John fell down the stairs today and Kadayah was there to give her all of the details.  Apparently, according to Kadayah, the dog(the pomeranian) knocked John from the top of the stairs down to the bottom.  John hit his head and his eye swelled up really big and he cried because he couldn't see.  Now, I am not sure why my mom thought that I would have just taken John back upstairs if he possibly had a concussion, but then my family thought my profile picture was real so...yeah.  I told her that John had a small bruise on his eye and he fell because he was running too fast.  He didn't fall from the top of the stairs.  He maybe fell down 3 steps.  She was completely freaking out about it.  It's nice to know that my mom thinks I would be like, oh, your brain is bleeding? Well, I can't see it and I have to get on Xanga, OK.  I'll take you later or if it starts coming out of your ears.