Prompt: Landmark

Landmark

When I last visited Kip
she lived in San Francisco, California
in a neighbourhood called Twin Peaks
and we would get in her car, a little
“any car but a Chrysler” sort of car
because her father worked for Chrysler
her two sisters did too
Detroit was like that
and she was the only one
with a liberal arts degree
west coast, brunette, pot smoking
pierced, tattooed, baseball-loving
punk-ish and puckish
and she would take us out driving
anywhere I wanted to go
the wharf, Sonoma, that Mexican place
in the Mission
anywhere but Alcatraz
and when it was time to go home
she would point her car towards the hills
and drive up, and circle
until she got high enough
to see the white tower
and then she drove towards that
to get to the streets she recognised
and only then could she get home
now she lives in San Jose
and I wonder how she finds her way home

Prompt: Animal

Bees

I once told a boy
I’d rather eat a jar of bees
than be without him

He left anyway

He didn’t know

I was stung by a bee once
I stepped on it with bare feet
and blew up like a parade balloon
there was an ambulance ride
a night spent in the hospital

I was thirteen
but all I remember
is the sting

I never stepped on a bee again
bare feet or not

I learned the consequences
of not respecting small things

Prompt: The Problem with ____________

The problem with the Future

While walking the dogs I met an old woman
she told me how cute my dogs were
and how her dog was clever
he went woof, woof very low
when bad people passed the house
no good people, only bad
I said that was clever indeed
And she said
my German shepherd, he go
woof, woof very low
when bad people pass the house
no good people, only bad
And how about my dogs
were they clever
I said no, not very clever
but full of love and she said
My dog is German shepherd,
very clever
he go woof, woof very low
when bad people pass the house
no good people, only bad
And all of a sudden
I felt like the hero in a sci fi movie
who comes across a robot
and starts talking to it
thinking there will be information
only to realise after much repetition
and maybe some sparks and twitching
that the robot isn’t really all there
after all
And maybe hasn’t been there for some time
I felt just like that sci fi hero
except that sci fi hero never has to worry
about turning into that robot

Prompt: Outsider

The Newspaperman

Saturday morning, café
she’s 20 minutes late this time
and even the chairs mock him
one man adrift in a sea of couples
smells like coffee, eggs, and domestic bliss
their weekend newspapers make him think
of delivering them
the bend - from the knees, Jim!
the feel of them
their heft
people used the classifieds then
now it’s online
and you never have to get your hands dirty
kids like that these days
but he liked the smell of ink and paper
to meet the occasional woman
once or twice it was a man
and he still did it
it didn’t mean anything
if anything, it made him feel
more legitimate, like a doctor
the fourth couple comes up
and asks it they can share his table maybe
no
11:48, and another text saying she’ll
be right there
he’s beginning to think
this 26 year old he met on the internet
and who wants him to spank her
just might not have her shit together

Prompt: Origin

Winter and her boots


winter and her boots scraped the pavement
her wet hair had frozen into
stiff rat tails

she’d been looking at yet another apartment
that yet another landlord wouldn’t rent to her

she knew because he’d looked her up and down
like he was trying to eyeball the weight of a melon
and said, “I’m not going to rent to you.”

too risky
and student loan money
doesn’t count as being independently wealthy

now she was walking back to the place
where she was staying

dusk on the main street
and all the lights were just beginning to turn on
in all the houses

and it felt like every light
waited until she’d passed
to blink on

her ex would have said,
“It’s not real.”
so now she said, out loud but low,
“I know. But it’s how it feels.”

at the end of the block
the house where she’s staying
is dark

no lights for her
just a couch that makes her spine
want to nautilus in on itself

she considers the wisdom of a bar
a drink, the empty bar stools
next to her like invitations

she coughs into her gloved hand
enjoys the brief feel of warmth
that blooms on her palm
then fades

a sedan pulls up next to her at the curb
the window slides down
and she can feel the heat
even from a foot away

it’s the kind of town where a man
will proposition a girl
even in winter
when she’s wearing a winter coat
that makes her look like a trash bag
with legs

the man says
“Do you want a ride?”

she steps closer
considers the bar, the couch, the car

“yeah,” she says
her hand’s on the car handle

“How much?”
he says.

to not go to that house?
to not sit on that couch?
at least for a little while

“$60”

“Hey, what’s your name?”
he says while she’s buckling her seatbelt

“Stephanie,” Eva says.

“That’s nice.”

when the car passes by the house
the light stays off