Once a time in Sunday School
although I knew it wasn't cool
I left behind a bunny stool,
not the kind you sit on.
Sometimes it is hard to pass,
on showing what you think of class
When your professor is an ass,
the kind that you can sit on.
Monday, January 4, 2010
The Dream
Hope,
This is kind of depressing. And I woke up late so I just wrote it.
Luvs you!!!
Kaytay
We were in another town. Always, another town. There were dogs without homes too, thinking following us would make one appear. Every place we went people knew me, thought they knew me. Old women in the grocery store dropped cans and ran to the confused arms of store employees when I passed. A man pulled me aside, "do you know who this is?" He pointed at a huge portrait of a girl that looked just like me, hung behind curtains on the grocery store wall.
We were in their homes, sliding open doors, running through clean carpeted rooms we'd never felt on our feet, sliding over beds, scared and giggling. All of them were clean, unlocked, perfect pastel houses towering one next to the other, so close you could climb across the horizon.
We got braver. Wearing bathing suits, walked up to them in their kitchens, pretending to be home inspectors. It's all about confidence.
Finally we found a pool. A stoic father and his thin, consciousness-hating son came and joined us. They knew we didn't live there.
On the train ride to the next town we made fun of them. Mean, childish words pouring out of our mouths we couldn't stop.
I started thinking about Emily, how she tried to explain who I was. She showed me pictures of a girl just like me with children I didn't know. I could tell she was happy and making them laugh. They came right before she told me her name.
We got off the train. This town was burned almost to the ground, we ran around collecting anything we thought was useful or interesting. The dogs followed us.
That was before they shot Elmer.
This is kind of depressing. And I woke up late so I just wrote it.
Luvs you!!!
Kaytay
We were in another town. Always, another town. There were dogs without homes too, thinking following us would make one appear. Every place we went people knew me, thought they knew me. Old women in the grocery store dropped cans and ran to the confused arms of store employees when I passed. A man pulled me aside, "do you know who this is?" He pointed at a huge portrait of a girl that looked just like me, hung behind curtains on the grocery store wall.
We were in their homes, sliding open doors, running through clean carpeted rooms we'd never felt on our feet, sliding over beds, scared and giggling. All of them were clean, unlocked, perfect pastel houses towering one next to the other, so close you could climb across the horizon.
We got braver. Wearing bathing suits, walked up to them in their kitchens, pretending to be home inspectors. It's all about confidence.
Finally we found a pool. A stoic father and his thin, consciousness-hating son came and joined us. They knew we didn't live there.
On the train ride to the next town we made fun of them. Mean, childish words pouring out of our mouths we couldn't stop.
I started thinking about Emily, how she tried to explain who I was. She showed me pictures of a girl just like me with children I didn't know. I could tell she was happy and making them laugh. They came right before she told me her name.
We got off the train. This town was burned almost to the ground, we ran around collecting anything we thought was useful or interesting. The dogs followed us.
That was before they shot Elmer.
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