Mindless self indulgence

It's for the birds anyway

Claudine

3 sides of her

Excerpt

He carried his sneakers under his arm as he eased open the door and shut it gently, twisting the knob so the lock wouldn't make a noise. He found it funny how people became used to the intricacies of objects, how they each have their own personality. An understanding of most of the objects in the apartment had been obtained from his many visits;

The stove was a cold old maid, her pilot light went out after every use. You had to lighter her fire and coax it into the burner with a careful twist of the dial. She never warmed up completely. It could take hours to make a meal.

The television was the stoves cranky hubby. If you aren't paying full attention to it, it fills your ears with white noise and distortions, crying 'look at me! pay attention!'

The television is always in the living room staring at nothing. The stove is always in the kitchen, being still.

The lighting is a young child. Only a few years old, and rarely does what you say. There is a worry it will somehow start a fire in the walls. The floor creaks and groans as though your walking on an arthritic back, so it must be tread on lightly. The mirror reflects poor self esteem with heavy wear, scratches, and oxidization on its face. 

The shower is a careless nurse. Sometimes it touches you with freezing hands, other times it burns you.

They are really like  people. On the whole you can trust them, but they don't always listen, and they don't always work. And one day, they will die.

As I walked down the path, the branches overhead filled with crows, I wondered.

I shook loose my skin to free my feathers

and ripped off my nose to expose my beak.

Dropped my arms to spread my wings

and took to the sky.

The city is beautiful at night

so I flew to your window.

I pecked the glass

but you wouldn't let me in.

I was a crow who flew too far

and left you alone.

I built a home on your fire escape 

and now I caw when you have people over

and now I caw when you sleep in

and now I caw when you come home

Honey

She held a tattered brown umbrella as she ran down the street.

Her hair was in loose brown curls that came naturally when it was moist.

The black rubber boots she wore were two sizes too big and were constantly on the verge of falling off, impeding her progress.

Simple make-up on a clean, kind face.

Yellow rain jacket over a sweater that looked like wool, and a brown skirt.

As she shook off her umbrella before stepping on a bus, she glanced at me and I recognized her from a new years party.

She smiled.

And got on the bus.

Ash

The leaves have turned to ash.

Androgynous heart

disappointed

Magnetic

his mouth tasted of pot

his jacket was faded

his jeans were torn

and his shoes were dirty

Sophia

I peered through the camera to her exposed flesh and told her to tense.

She tensed and I took a photograph.

Her hair was black and wild. Her skin was porcelain. She had a monroe.

She was 17.

I asked her to look at me though the lens.

She looked at me through the lens and I took a photograph.

She was slim. Her hip bones stuck out under her polka dot panties. Her collar bone stuck out under her polka dot bra.

She smoked DuMaurier. The kind here dad smoked.

I told her to drink from the bottle.

She drank from the bottle and I took a photograph.

She was every girl her age. She was Sophia.

Snag

hands like plaster

snag my lace

tearing small holes

2.99 panties from zellers

black bow

matches my hair

and my eyes

rough skin on my skin

tears my flesh

and it weeps blood

change my consciousness

to unaware

can't quite make it enjoyable

another night of surrender

The bathroom mirror reflects my body.

I am green.

I am an orangutang.

The bathroom mirror reflects my face.

I am green.

I am a heart.

The bathroom mirror reflects my eyes.

I am green.

I am deep.

The bathroom mirror reflects my hair.

I am green. 

I am straw.

The bathroom mirror reflects my expression.

I am green.

I am a white sheet of carbon paper.