"i'm
claustrophobic, you know,"
she says,
as she aims another cherry pit
at the top of her
bedpost.
flick.
it hits, and is suddenly
the blood squeezed from
a potato.
a hideous Cheshire grin
winking yellow-gold stars
from the cavernous expanse
they call Forever.
calmly watch as that
Frisbee shatters the
dawn,
making it plunge
(like the Raging Bull)
back into night...
but her hand
becomes a blue spatula
and catches me
saves me from certain
torture by
smelly gym socks from
last Thursday.
she sighs, slowly,
and resurrects another
Bubblicious bullet.
pop-
maybe tomorrow i'll just
stay home.