Out On 27th 1/2 St.

Fifth generation home.

70s shag carpet.

Linoleum kitchen floors.

Squeky Lazy Suzan.

Slamming screen door.

Running barefoot down

A gravel driveway

Passed tall green pines,

Surrounded by cornfields,

Mosquito infested swamps, and

Crickets and spring peepers.

Running on deer trails

Through purple brambles,

Gaining blackberry stains

And small scars,

Searching for buried treasure:

Sun bleached bones.

 

The skull hung in the garage.

I wish we still lived there.

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Dancing in the Rain

One of my most favorite things is the rain.

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I was jumping around in the puddles in my shoes, singing “Open the flood gates of Heaven! Let it rain!” as it continued to rain harder.

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When I got back to my room, I was dripping little puddles on my floor. I emptied everything out of my back pack, and the only things wet were a receipt and the corners of a journal! (Dude, target knows how to hook a person up.)

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My shoes looked horrible too. They were already dirty, now it looked like I bought them gray. (I’m not even sure I’m the one that bought them….)

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So I threw everything in the washer and drying, and they came out looking like they did before I jumped in any puddles. I, on the other hand, was freezing. I threw on a sweater, and began to clean up the rest of my dirty room.

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(Ignore the fact that I just stated I’m cold so I’m a wearing a sweater, but now I’m also in shorts. I think it’s a Michigan thing.)

The day was a lot of fun. I was wet for nearly all of it. I was definitely soaking wet at the end of it. Although, I did not spare a friend of mine from ending up the same way. A full out water war happened. I was talking to a few other friends, and jokingly said, “Wanna hug?” And they hugged me! I felt so loved.

This was on Wednesday.

Genie Pendant

She is the type of girl who puts feathers and flowers in between the leaves of her Bible. Her own skin is ink pressed and crinkled with age. A cigarette hangs between her calloused fingers. Girl or woman, I can’t tell the difference. Her body shows signs of age, but the way she talks is as if she’s back in middle school experiencing her first love.

She is the type of girl who knows she is dirt, but “start dust” is what she calls herself. She will smile and show her crooked, nicotine, yellow stained teeth. Although, nothing about her shines gold. Actually, she is rather bronze. Maybe back in the day she wore a gold medal, but I can’t tell. To me she is more like a sticky penny from 1988. 

She is the type of girl who sits on a whicker basket behind a blanket full of timeless wares. She clasps a necklace around me, and tells me that the pendant was once home to a genie. For a second I think she is the genie. She tells me stories about all of these things, wounds from her past, that she is avidly trying to get rid of. 

She is the type of girl who bled gold once, but it tarnished overtime as she slowly forgot her worth, and here she is trying to earn it back; and here I am, dragging knives across my skin, paying in blood, creating wounds, that I too will sell in the future.

At least I get a genie pendant out of it. 

Story Time

The Dragon Sash

I still wore the veil held in place by a jade comb, but I refused to wear the elaborate headdress. I relented to wearing everything else. The shoes I was wearing were made with a soft red fabric. Green turtles were stitched into the sides. The dress I was wearing was white with a red robe. The sash tied around my waist was also white but with red dragons stitched into it. It was the final piece to the whole ensemble. It was a gift, he had asked me to wear it.

We were out in the peach grove under all of the blossoming trees. I was in a palanquin, a light silk fabric screening my face from him. I came from just as much a royal family as he did. Surrounding me were twelve men. He was alone. We had only meant twice before and those times were only coincidences. He held out both hands. Folded over them was the sash. He said he would be honored if I wore it. How could I have refused him? It was probably the most beautiful gift I had ever been given. However, I should have known the intentions behind it, especially since it was coming from him.

It was only a few weeks after that, when I found myself sitting in my room surrounded by maids. They were all combing my hair, touching my skin, trying to decide how to paint my face. I turned to them and said, “Dress me how you want, but you must choose whether I wear the headdress or the sash. I will not wear both. I will not let others seal my fate when I am perfectly capable of deciding my future for myself.”

I was without the headdress, but the sash suddenly felt too tight. I wanted out of the Bridal Chair and into the open air. I wanted out from behind the curtains and the veil. Looking ahead I saw the palace doors open. Looking behind me, I watched them close. With the gates behind me and the crown prince somewhere in the palace in front of me, I knew the dragon sash tied around my waist had tied me to this occasion. I now had little to no part in my own future. I knew that whether I liked it or not, I was now bound to the crown prince and his future the moment I accepted the sash, something I never should have done.