holding those trembling hands, ''it's not gonna be okay''

but this is just a dream.

When you're done with something
 

but not quite.
That perfect knot on your left shoe 

that refuses to stay straight. 
That drama where the heroine lives 

but marries the wrong guy.
That birthday in school 

and your best friend is missing. 
That movie with your friends

and she's not sitting with you.
That first glance, brush of skin, and sharp breath,

I knew for sure that this could be something else

                              but it's not. 



ariel
 

Did anyone tell you kangaroos in straitjackets were dangerous

just like the ubiquitous man in shades around every corner who watches you

The wrinkled relic next door offers you a cigarette
that smelled faintly of vinegar. You decline. When you realise
he already moved out a year ago you question the date
in the papers and the teary-eyed correspondent with the flamboyant 80s hair
who claims ten more have died.

No matter.

You find a crayon sketch you drew of your family
as kangaroos when you were younger
when you were looking for a goldfish
strange how you barely remembered.

The vinegar cigarette is in your pocket.

The kangeroo lights up with his feet and takes a puff
spluttering at your friend who just walked in.
You clench your fist so the goldfish does not escape
slippery thing gleaming yellow and making smoke rings with it's mouth
yet no smoke is coming out.  Back to your friend
who is barely surprised, still whistling

Hiliarity is a sad clown with no money for sweets and cocaine.


ar
 

This is impossible the clockwork
mouse said, twitching like a ferret on cocaine. Silence.
Dust settles in the meantime, snowflakes too,
invisible like black
cats. Squeak goes the mouse,
it's paws to it's beady
eyes that  held no fear as
fake tears start to form
on those diminutive orbs.

Transparency is like plastic bags.
Or mirrors. When you can see through nothing,
there is nothing to see through.

Somewhere far away, helicopters like bats
fly only at night, while cruise missiles
screech like a cat
being kicked. (there is always a reason)

I used to like metal elephants
rabid and hungry and noisy.
They remind me of
yellow dirty construction bulldozers
but they are extinct.

A birthday cake, another singer's last song.
Tense knife then hands are feet. Quivering
like whiskers, almost transparent things
which were so important to Darwin, the one with the
thick books and moustache
and the Caribbean accent. 

Then the hesitant slice,
and the swift goodbye.

 

You gasp,
And i shudder.
If?


Ariel