Half as Pretty and Twice as Drunk.

I figure that soldiers have most in common,
With other soldiers.
And I mean that on both sides,
And I use the term soldier very loosely.

I tried once to run a marathon.
Another time to quit smoking.
Both were foils, so don't hate me.

A big person can make a much bigger mess than a little person,
And it's really all because you got bombed,
So you bomb back,
But it all rests in your investment in their collective pure evil.

And it's nuclear and cancer,
And do you ever just feel that you'd love to see a celebrity,
Marching with a gun, into battle?

But you won't ever see that,
Unless Prince Harry counts,
And who can always really care,
Because they all start but don't ever finish,
And it's definitely better to be a celebrity.

I swear to god I'm not a hippie,
And of course you didn't start it.
It'll never be up to you,
And all people are terrible in a crisis.

But one day it dawns on you,
That you're probably expendable.
It's probably a numbers game and tip-top probably knows,
So there can't be anything glorious about peril,
And you hug the person next to you tighter,
On the nights with the horrors.

I'm telling you,
There's no such thing as a bargain promise,
And we're discussing life and death here,
But I don't mean in the abstract.

We're never going to be able to live in this world,
If we don't start having compassion,
For people who make shit choices.
And I use the term soldier very loosely.

Color Me Moody.

Thursdays are Pint Nights.
You get to keep the glass, and that's what makes them cool.

Kim always gets me up shit creek, and I always tell her.

Lots of people cry at Pint Nights.
Somebody old asked how McLevy's is.
Said your mother is the love of my life,
...and that was rather unprecedented.

But I won't kill a boner on purpose, so I said she's tip-top.
A nod and a raised glass.

But then Kim came sailing, and I laid my head on the bar.

"...Her mom locked herself in a bedroom for three days.
No food, or pee, or shit.
Her liver was huge, and she was black and blue,
so she swallowed a million anti-depressants.
And chugged a fifth of vodka.
Screaming, she died in puke.
I was there, and it was terrible."

"...Her dad got esophageal cancer,
even though he was a runner.
Four months later, poof.
dead, gone.
ciao, bello.
I was there, and it was terrible."

"...Zack's bisexual.
Norah's into witchcraft.
Says she's a Buddhist until April.
I'm still here, and it's really still terrible."

But Kim didn't say that we are kids,
bred to understand each other.
Because we were raised by parents,
who wanted kids who talked to one another.

My dad used to send Zack and I notes, in Chicago.
Except they were really just one note, ripped in two.
One half to him, the other to me.
Meeting was compulsory,
to read the whole thing.
And we would, over coffee, or spaghetti, or milkshakes.

WWF(a)C Fastwrite: Name Day

They call me a prude, while they call me a whore.
They call me thrilling, while they call me a bore.

Dealing with the paradox often closes a door.
I find friendliness sometimes a chore.

They call me an orphan, and nothing rhymes with that.
They've called me anorexic, while calling me fat.

My name is Caitlin, but my family calls me Rae.
Sometimes a different name keeps Doomsday at bay.

shorties: 12/4/2012

I Don't Like to Call it a Boy Problem...
when he unscrews his scalp,
i'm going to flick a paperclip into his brain,
and make his love go everywhere.

he's talking about a girl,
taller than a bookshelf.
how he wound his arms
around her legs.

his hair slithers away,
as i reach out to touch it.

i think i'm building myself to last.
but we'll see.
i got cranky,
stood on the fire escape.

my brother sounded worried,
but he said
getting sick would be good for me in the long run.

i'm mad at you because
i made a fool of myself.
and i would never let you make a fool of yourself.

How's it going...
nothing's happened for awhile.
except a couple of dead leaves flew at my ankles,
while i was trying to buy a mop.
today,
all i have to do,
is unslash my bike tires.

Weekends...
out for a walk,
my welfare seems tilted.
i don't like the puppy or the women in the racetrack bar.
slugging, melting evening traffic.
on foot, i am winged against it,
waiting for the pinch of an angel.

You're out?

I giggled, and against all odds, I was really in a pretty good mood.
Who knows? Maybe the yoga thing really does work.

And I was hungry, thinking about falafel, weighing whether or not brussel sprouts deserved a second chance, when bam.

Sharon Smith.
No kidding.
"Did you start smoking again when your dad died, Caitlin?"

Jesus God.
She really said that, you know.

"No, Sharon. I started smoking again when I woke up and wanted a cigarette."

"Time will only really help you feel better, Caitlin."
"I hate you, Sharon."

"Sorry, Caitlin. I don't usually drink."
"You really shouldn't drink, Sharon."

I don't give a R.I.P.

August 13, 2012.

One time, when she was six, Maggie's mom and her new Cuban boyfriend left her at the Miami Zoo.
Told her they'd be back in a few hours, only they didn't come back.
So it got dark and her toes had blisters, and Maggie asked a zoo vendor selling cotton candy if she could call her gram.
It was really a big deal.
"Lost Kid", rent-a-cops, and golf cart rides, you know.

But her gram came, and Maggie was sitting on a bench, under a tall light with lots of bugs, pretending that she could read the zoo map pamphlet.
She crooked her head from side to side, raising her eyebrows, saying the words she definitely knew out loud.

The Lions. Lion. Lion. Lion.
Because the lions were Maggie's favorite.

Then, like a hiss, a baggie with exactly three Oreos in it was dangling in front of her face.
The free arm wrapped around her head, palm on her forehead.
The perfume, familiar.

"C'mon, Mouse. Sunburned, time for home". A smooch on top of a sweaty kid's bobbed haircut.

Nobody remembers the name of the Cuban boyfriend.
Only that he slept in his van and showered at the public beach.

"Hey, Mags. Remember that one time when we got drunk? Ate hot dogs on top of that cable box?"

"That wasn't me, Mom".

yes, already.