8/17/2014
Her name was Joy Jenny Jeffers,
known only really as Jenny.
I loved her for the way she’d sometimes
sit up in bed at four twenty three am,
the linen bunched all around her naked
knees,
and she’d proudly and dully proclaim
to her imaginary friend
perched on the wall:
“Frankly, Frankie,
I don’t
think this
relationship
is going
anywhere”
I’d laugh, call her a doll
“Oh Joy Jenny Jeffers,
I love you too much,”
with a slap, call me Jenny,
she’d plop back in the bed.
(This all happened
in the dark,
don't you remember..?)
I loved her for the way she would
put wildflower honey
in her black coffee
and one time, hungover, she poured in
canola oil,
which she drank anyways,
Which would prompt a swift
“Oh Joy Jenny Jeffers,
I love you too much,”
as i drank my St. John’s tea
laced with Bacardi.
I loved her for the way she hated
animals and music,
for the way she burned off a strand of
hair when curling it,
for the way she blinked when an eyelash brushed up against her iris.
I loved her for the way she said Frankly, Frankie, and I loved her the very same
when she started preforming old tricks
in front of new patrons,
when Frankly Frankie became
Frankly Johnnie or Frankly Helen,
I loved her all the same,
And in this i realised i didn’t love Joy Jenny Jeffers,
but I loved the way a certain woman
got an eyelash out of her way,
fixed her earrings when they caught,
comforted sickly children halfheartedly,
and I loved the way a woman went about waking up at exactly four twenty three am every night or morning to say
"Frankly,
Frankie,
I don’t think this relationship
is going
anywhere.”
With the linen
all around
her knees.
Dec 19, 2014
Dec 19, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
8/17/2014
Her name was Joy Jenny Jeffers,
known only really as Jenny.
I loved her for the way she’d sometimes
sit up in bed at four twenty three am,
the linen bunched all around her naked
knees,
and she’d proudly and dully proclaim
to her imaginary friend
perched on the wall:
“Frankly, Frankie,
I don’t
think this
relationship
is going
anywhere”
I’d laugh, call her a doll
“Oh Joy Jenny Jeffers,
I love you too much,”
with a slap, call me Jenny,
she’d plop back in the bed.
(This all happened
in the dark,
don't you remember..?)
I loved her for the way she would
put wildflower honey
in her black coffee
and one time, hungover, she poured in
canola oil,
which she drank anyways,
Which would prompt a swift
“Oh Joy Jenny Jeffers,
I love you too much,”
as i drank my St. John’s tea
laced with Bacardi.
I loved her for the way she hated
animals and music,
for the way she burned off a strand of
hair when curling it,
for the way she blinked when an eyelash brushed up against her iris.
I loved her for the way she said Frankly, Frankie, and I loved her the very same
when she started preforming old tricks
in front of new patrons,
when Frankly Frankie became
Frankly Johnnie or Frankly Helen,
I loved her all the same,
And in this i realised i didn’t love Joy Jenny Jeffers,
but I loved the way a certain woman
got an eyelash out of her way,
fixed her earrings when they caught,
comforted sickly children halfheartedly,
and I loved the way a woman went about waking up at exactly four twenty three am every night or morning to say
"Frankly,
Frankie,
I don’t think this relationship
is going
anywhere.”
With the linen
all around
her knees.
part of the "halfway characters" series
fictional