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Big blond gal next door is sitting on her front stoop in her Sonic
uniform, waiting on her ride. I am in bed snuggling with baby boy,
almost one year old, and husband of three and a half years. His breath stinks. So does mine. Later I sweep mouse turds up from underneath baby crib. I mop. Baby boy babbles to himself in his crib. He won’t take his morning nap. People online are crowing about the historical election. When Bush got it in 2004 I said I would never vote again. I fucking meant it. Yesterday I told the husband we could make big bucks taping ourselves fucking and selling it on the Internet. I was serious. I’m selling shit I don’t need and bidding on shit I don’t want at eBay. Soon I will have a blue star. My stomach is gurgling. I’m ignoring it. My focus is machete sharp. I am intent on hacking away at my frozen pineapple brain. I want heat. I want blood. I want to be the banana split the stoned world craves. I have a few thoughts on how to accomplish this. I’m not eating. I’m not sleeping. I’m not fucking. My needs are buried deeply for the greater good. I’m scratching away with grave patience at the crumbling stone.
- misti rainwater-lites
