#joey
Thank you. For everything.
Cecilia touched the red splotch on my polo shirt, removed it with her finger, and wriggled her nose, as the overhead light brightened with a hazy blue. She licked her finger. I was just glad when she pulled out a chair, sat down, moved closer to me, as I poured myself a ***** cran. Cecilia clapped her hands once, and then clapped them again, as the ceiling slowly morphed into a blanket of green smoke. I guess it looked more like the planet, as the smoke turned into small pockets of water blue.
She closed her fingers over my wrist and choose to look at the floor. "What happened to the carpet?" Cecilia asked, her eyes raising. "What do you mean?" I asked, looking down at my feet that were drenched in honey and chocolate. The TV crackled to life and a picture of Joey Biden appeared and he was writing in a diary. He wore a tennis hoodie, sweatpants, and Birkenstocks.
“What do you think he’s writing?” Cecilia asked, as she munched on a pineapple.
Joey put his pencil down on the desk, then walked over to the window on the right-hand side, opened it, and took a green **** sitting on his nightstand, ripped it, letting out a plume of smoke.
I shrugged and took a large bite out of of the pineapple.
“Something funny? Something serious?” Cecilia asked again, not seeming to notice the green smoke filling up the living room.
“You want my honest opinion?” I asked. The walls trembled from the hammers beating against them. A baby grand piano was being played somewhere upstairs. Outside, stray dogs were barking up a rainstorm. I tossed the pineapple over my shoulder and pulled a candy bar sticking out of the couch cushions. I felt the years of decay and melted caramel apple coating my palm, as I hunched forward, and tossed the candy bar out the windows. The dogs howled gratefully and crooned an old jazz bebop tune.
Cecilia laughed, clicking her heels together. “No, lie to me like you do when I ask you, ‘does this dress make me look fat,” she said, as Joey reached up to his bookcase and inserted his diary in between a history text book and Joseph Heller’s Catch-22. He sighed, closed his eyes, and began to talk in Portuguese.
“He’s writing something about **** Probably because he just got high,” I said, as I put my hand over my mouth and yawned.
Joey stopped talking in Portuguese and then he got up, walked over the TV screen, touched a button. The screen went black.
Cecilia’s face was shrouded in green smoke, green as crinkled dollar bills. “Do you want to go to sleep?” she asked, stepping over the passed-out brown bear laying in a puddle of honey and chocolate.
“It’s our anniversary,” I said, moving my finger gently over a plush red box. I turned and looked at Cecilia who was grabbing my face and kissing it. The box fell into the honey and chocolate, sticking to the floor.
I bent down, picked up the box, and opened it. A paper airplane floated out and unfolded itself, landing neatly in Cecilia’s hands. She began to read it, “Dear President Obama. Thank you. For everything…”
I closed my eyes and listened to an old Louie Armstrong record playing on a turntable a foot away in the kitchen. The needle scratched. Then, the volume lowered down.
The curtains closed.
And the TV buzzed as the dogs burned each house in the neighborhood.
Jan 12, 2017
Jan 12, 2017 at 11:54 PM UTC
i used to write to let out the pain
as ink spilled onto the smooth white surface
so did the excruciating truth
but now it seems
the ink is red
and it spills from the
wound that you left me
with every stroke of the pen
each memory of you and I
comes rushing back
like salt burning flesh
Sep 1, 2015
Sep 1, 2015 at 1:26 AM UTC
Each and every text hit me like
Little sparks of fire,
Each of them igniting
And enveloping me
In this new feeling,
Spreading warmth across my body
Like warm butter,
Seeping in and soaking.
Popcorn popping in my stomach,
Bouncing up and down,
Warm and addicting.
I smiled.
So this is what it feels like to be loved.
May 31, 2015
May 31, 2015 at 1:02 AM UTC
Joey went a running,
with no where left to run.
Joey went a jumping,
grabbing at the sun.
Joey wasn't happy.
Joey had no choice.
People used to hit him,
and no one heard his voice.
Now Joey has left town,
he's no where to be found.
Joey touched the sky,
and crashed into the ground
May 17, 2014
May 17, 2014 at 10:46 PM UTC