the glass of the front door of the apartment complex is clear. slightly hazy. tinted transparent. seeing through it, using it to look through. from the inside. the stairs, leading down, in a series of descent. i didn't believe in anything, the concrete of it, hard, objective. running down in a straight line from the entrance, lined by shrubs, to the steps leading down to the sidewalk. i stood watching people pass on the sidewalk unaware of me. i thought, maybe. the sound of voices reaching through the paneling of glass. i couldn't touch them or be touched.
it came out the mouth of the tube as i pressed the abdomen of it like some kind of disgorging small animal. the soft, pastel-colored paste curled out through the beveled lips where the cap screwed on & bent over from the force of its own weight, down to the coil it was making on the sink's counter. the curves of its body was piled up on itself in loops & race-track shapes defining a topography completely void of angulation. i kept squeezing until the tube had become flattened out and empty. all of the toothpaste lay splayed out like the inverse of shed snake skin.
in the kitchen, from the freezer, i took out a blue tray. an empty ice cube tray. the blocks of frozen water stuck to my fingers when i touched them. i thought something was going to happen. water was running from the sink faucet. i held the tray under & filled it up. put it back in the freezer in the grooved plastic shelf made for it. i held six ice cubes in my mouth, feeling them burn against the inside of my cheek.
a caterwaul of infants, infantry. teeth gelid. she stood like an alabaster statue being transported. the skirt of her hung blue or green from the shoulders, a mannequin's hanger. looking out the window at the passing scenery. she turned her heel; i spoke to her. she wore a purse and a watch. i held her wrist; the clock struck my face. she watched me die, caught under the wheels.
the walls, white, locked in a room. defeated, lost breath, unfound, unfounded. people, like figures of geometry, legends on a map, move in & out, breathing, of the room. their shapes cast shadows just when i thought they were not. i am uncomfortable; no one will comfort me. calling on the telephone, calling on the lord landline.
today was something & the weather was something. the person on the radio kept repeating to stay calm. i looked out the window & then at another person. i opened my mouth to say a word or maybe two when the radio spoke again telling everyone to remain. it was like that all day, no one noticing & people sometimes pausing with a leg in the air like a dog, trying to decide or make some decision. they must have eventually.
intolerable interminable silences walling up from the half places to be watched, to fill up the crooks, crooked nooks, nothing. the light, pure, filtered through striations of impurities splashing like an infected gash across the face. open sore. the noises of its silence. a drowning drinking silent noise like the moment before an orchestra crashes into a denture.
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AuthorI write short stories. This is my blog. I'm going to write whatever. Archives
October 2014
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