The Puppies

Two puppies lay at my feet.

One brindle and striped like a tiger

The female is a lovely gray. It is she

that is striking. Her face so small, her legs like flappers.

she would be a beautiful dancer, but

how frightened of every little sound!

I took her out to the front yard and she heard wind chimes

and skirted back to the door—I took them out together once

‘til two pit bulls barked

and Luna dived under a parked

car

The first time

I coaxed her out with a treat. “Come here, baby.”

The second time, “Get the fuck out of that car!”

 

anonymous 231 said a man grabbed her privates on a subway

(why do we use that word… ‘privates’…they are not private)

i was grabbed

he grabbed me

a schoolmate grabbed me in a classroom. In class.

30 people stood, all in groups, chatting

uncomfortably. I can’t remember what I did. Why this boy laughed and reached out and          touched—

cupped

           no—

     eah!

 

I yelped.

Potty training is better. I must softly pet them every time they go outside

or they’ll forget themselves and pee inside.

They’ve done it often. Tejunio will worry his eyes at me and meander

to the door sometimes. I tried to rub his nose in it, and

 he bucked like a wild horse. Like I’d beaten him.

Women envision strange things:

A woman fantasizes she’s in love and gets married and

has a thousand babies while juggling a career.

A woman fantasizes she is on a cruise ship and

there is a murder and only she can solve it.

Occasionally a woman fantasizes she’s at home. Cooking. Or on the street, or

at a frat house. And a man approaches her. A nondescript white man, age 22-30.

A lewd request. A reaching out to touch.

She whips out her gun and shoots him dead like Butch Cassidy or John Wayne.

And the blood and the police come and she says breathlessly

I’d rather go to prison than be Raped! And the jury acquits

the brave young heroine

But the boy’s last name was Cho. He wasn’t older. I couldn’t find my gun.

Puppies

are doing well. They

follow me, they

drink when I drink, watch

me use the bathroom,

eat each others’ meals,

chew up all my furniture

and sprawl on my bed. Luna loves

belly rubs. She spreads her legs and shows the world–

I call it her ‘teepee’

because it looks like a little Indian hut.

I fight this strange urge to touch it—

but my hand disgusts.

I can’t remember how they neuter females.

Fear and Sickness

I am going to New York City in two weeks. Exactly two weeks from today. And for the past few days, I have been in inundated with headaches and nausea. Nausea that grasps the back of the throat and does not let go. For awhile, I thought it was because of my phobia of taking medication, but I know it’s my travel fright. Ha! Travel fright. I think that should be a thing. Unless it’s already taken?

I feel guilty a bit because I just bought a plane ticket a few weeks ago and didn’t tell my parents. If you remember the horrid time I had in Paris, then you know I have bad luck. And since the trip to Paris and England (That Time I Got Lost And Had Several Seizures, Not In That Order), I’ve felt my family thinks I’m irresponsible in traveling and can’t take care of myself. I had this big fantasy when I bought the airplane ticket to go quietly to NYC, have an awesome time, and then reveal my successful journey to my fam later. They would be so surprised and impressed. Never would they say I was a bad traveler!

But it seems I already think I’m a bad traveler because I feel horrible.

My trip secret only lasted two days. I asked my brother to come with me, and he spilled the beans to my parents. Ugh, brothers. But after a lot of fighting, my brother gets to come to NY with me! So I won’t go alone. Because I was originally very scared to go alone. You must understand my mother, though–she is apprehensive when it comes to me traveling. True story: I was going to DC and it appeared my flight would land in Baltimore. I get a text twenty minutes after I told her. baltimore is the 32nd unsafest city in the united states

She kind of freaked out when I said I was thinking of living in the Big Apple after college for publishing.

So I am writing about my Travel Fright in hopes of curing it. Or postponing it. And so far, it’s worked.

More Updates That You Probably Don’t Care About

  • I’m off Facebook because the fucking politically correct feminazis pissed me off too much. And I just realized I cared too much what they and others thought of me.  Now I’m on Instagram and Pinterest. And Snapchat. Wow. Still too much SM.
  • Still single af. But not quite as bad. Actually went on two dates last week, but they both went terribly. My fault.
  • My pill phobia is worse.
  • I’m campaigning for Bernie Sanders, but kinda like Hillary Clinton. I bought a suit and it has shoulder pads and I love it. I feel like her when I wear it.

Being Broke, Stranded in Paris is Scary as F#ck

DSCN0608
My hotel room in Paris.

I wish I could tell you I am a completely independent woman. I really do. But getting lost on the Paris metro system, missing my train to London, and having to grovel for a cheap hotel room in a bad area made me realize that I am a dependent woman. And maybe that’s okay.

Continue reading “Being Broke, Stranded in Paris is Scary as F#ck”

Wishes

I wish I could say
almost babies live special kinda lives
for awhile
the sun ain’t blowin’ up, she’s just mad
My mama will live forever
and my daddy will live for her
and my brother will just live
Wish it were true
that Jesus, God, and my lover loved me
victims were glorified for surviving
and the ‘glorified’ were more ashamed.
Wish I was not ashamed–
Swim against the fish that bolt from the jaws of conservatism only to
find themselves in the belly of a bigger fish.
Cry in front of a friend because my mouth is not made for words but puddles of passion.
Say I deserve better than a love triangle
between me him and Mary-Jane.
Say I am sorry and I am on my own.