(no subject)

funny that my "what" writing is actually a bunch of "who" writing. i turn objects into people. apparently not-really-people people are easier for me to process. or maybe not.

5 minutes

movie theater

dark like night
my feet are stuck to the floor
lifting with the sound of wet velcro
my chair squeaks with anticipation
there is a clear sound of people paying attention
suddenly the earth quakes
and we are surrounded with sounds
people talking too loud to be comfortable with in casual conversation
everyone is wide-eyed with the sway of emotion
i am glued to the floor
i am melting into my seat
at peace in the movie magic glow
a...

i was going to say something about the silhouette of hair-do's ahead of me. hey, i stuck in the movie theater on this one. i thought i should. the past four days, i've traveled so far out from the object. maybe it's a good idea to stick with one sometimes. explore my senses more. like, "how else do i feel this?"

i'm trying to feel out mr. pattison's questions.

anyway...

10 minutes

cigar

bitter fruit of cuba
smokey tyrant dictator
fidel's pacifier
my tongue blisters with our every breath together
we taste fire and ash together
a trail of smoke dissipates overhead
a faint red glow giving away your position
each puff you take, i see your features more clearly
you shine in the spotlight for yet another hit
and disappear behind a haze of fog
swirling storm systems breaking over mountains
dried leaves like cracked leather
aged to perfection
fine brandy of the lungs
harsh and powerful with each taste
the power of reckless love
we celebrate together in the twilight of days
here's a toast to new parents
let's blaze the trail with shallow breath and cancer
with the lingering smell of tobacco
on stained hands

90 seconds

arrow

point to the direction i should be going
which way is one way?
tell me where i am
i am lost in the crowded mall
how far do i walk down the marble floor
the vaulted ceilings
which corner do we round to the restrooms?
quiver on release
split the apple