dressing an invisible, flat person

LTLYM assignment # 55

I have another polaroid of a more recent significant outfit, but my parents' scanner just e-barfed everywhere. It's a piece of junk. I think it was maybe the first scanner ever invented? The title/description of this outfit is forthcoming. Maybe. 

Also, Christmas. Happy late Christmas. Presents are forthcoming. Maybe. No, presents really are forthcoming. Get excited.

Wolfspeak

WOLFSPEAK

by Dean Young

It's like Blueberry saying she's a lake

and all people can do is dump in her

busted refrigerators.

No, it's like you spend half your life kicking

the supports out from under stuff

to prove everything can float

and even though everything collapses,

So far, you say, so far.

No, it's like you're repeating yourself,

which is actually a bad copy of someone else

saying the world's a dream

of someone who's eaten nothing

but praying mantises for weeks.

No, the world's a dream

of someone eating the world

then throwing half away because

a banquet's not a banquet unless half's thrown away.

Well maybe, but it's also like you're digging

in the garden and you hear screaming

then thank god you missed the baby rabbits!

Well, if you're going to bring god in, 

it's like god wanted to hide you

only you got tired of waiting to be found

so you leapt into the garage light

and said Here I am

which scared the mignon out of everyone

because you are a wolf.

You know the deal.

How everything unlaces.

You have a halo.

Sometimes you trot into town to drink from swimming pools

even though you know it's bad for you.

People misunderstand your smile.

Also lakes

and the inner flotation of all things.

Nothing is ever lost.

You can't forget where you are

when you're never anywhere

like a star. The star's coloring book 

is just like yours, the universe.

Almost none of the black crayon's left.

People misunderstand black crayons

but put a baby rabbit in their mitts,

they'll feel immense panic. 

Maybe not right away

but soon and forever.

She was watching a movie, one that she watched every day. It was her wedding video, or at least a video of what her wedding would have been like, if the world hadn't ended, if her boyfriend had lived long enough to propose to her. 

She lay on her belly on her bed, feet kicking in the air behind her, and said "Forward," so the image in the monitor, as big as her window on the opposite wall, blurred and accelerated, until she slowed it down at the reception. Some days she just listened to the blessing of the minister, a big lesbian looking lady in a purple dress that made her look like Grimace the milkshake monster, and some days she just watched when the camera took a slow track along the buffet table, feeling nostalgic for the salmon fillet and miniature quiches that she had never tasted. And some days, when she was feeling up to it, she watched the dancing, hugging her pillow while her new husband — they were twenty-five when they married and age only made him more handsome — spun her around to a bluegrass tune. She had never imagined that she would have banjos and autoharps at her wedding, and yet from the first time she heard them she knew the angel had got it all just right, just as it had been, and just as it never would be. The exchange of vows never got to her, but somehow the dancing always did her in. While her father called out that her sausage was getting cold, she cried and cried.

squid squid

What's your squid name?

Mine is Ravenous Sarah the Leviathan.