I push random thoughts around my plate.
Two slide off
I glance up.
Who saw?
No one is paying attention.
So I scoop them back up.
Eat them with honey mustard dressing.
What were they? My aunt asks.
She is the only other author in the family.
Jerkiness and Fear, I tell her.
Good thing you ate them, she said.
I just devoured anger and rage, myself.
I laughed, for she just ate two of my favorite words.
Too bad we did not exchange them.
An entire phrase is poured out of the milk container.
No milk today? According to "no milk today," this is correct.
How is your food? My aunt asks,
Knowing me well.
I shrug, watching Be and Quiet prance onto her hand,
pinching her softly.
She yelps. I look at her and smile.
Your imagination is getting carried away, she says.
We smile.
As unshaped as water, as filthy as streets, as hard as rocks:-
The separation we create
I remember our memories, I turn in pride
I remember the days…, how we used to pass them by
I remember the times…, when you wouldn’t talk
And I would drive the words out of you
I remember the plays, I remember that place
The place of where we acted, the place that played with life
I remember the jokes, I remember the silliness
I remember all pride
I remember the closeness, I remember the smiles
But I remember the jerkiness, I remember and ask why
I look at the pride
I forget the memories, they’re all in line
I remember the thoughts, the separation of some filthy joke
Told by an unoriginal friend, as silly as snake, as separating as earth
I miss the memories, I miss them deep
None of this would happen if we just swallowed our pride
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