Saying something in words is so harsh; too
general. It’s never enough.
—Joe Brainard
He has me giddy
searching for that
pot of gold. What
a rainbow he is!
I am so in love
with not knowing
where I’m going.
Quick, what comes
immediately to mind
when you see the
words SHATTERED
GLASS? I’m always
moving around with
some: in my pockets,
in my socks, under
my feet, in my hair,
stuck between my
teeth, etc. Today,
I went shopping
for some that’s
as of yet un-
shattered.
It’s expensive,
though. And
who needs it
anyway? I’ll
stick with the
ruby-studded
diamonds in
my pants
pockets, in
my tube socks.
So I buy a
stick of lipstick
instead. It looks
like a battery
that when
opened is
a tube of
butter.
Earlier this
week I lost
my lock that
keeps my few
belongings tucked
away safe. I forgot
to pick one up
while I was
shopping. I
was too keyed
in to cheap
bleeding
jewels and
lip-tickling
batteries
filled with
butter.
Knock,
knock. I’m
going to use
the rest of
October
(my least
favorite
month)
to buy
a new
lock.
Stay
tuned
next week
for The Case
of the Lonely
Pneumonia.
