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Keine Ahnung!

Everywhere. Everyday, this being her tenth.
It was all she saw, darkened skies, like rainy days. Rock and rubble. Wood. Long and thick laying across the streets, smashing into windows. Glass turned grey, even the green.
You could glimpse into people's lives where the buildings had only half fallen.
The only life was the soot and the dead leaves rolling with the winds. Dry. Dead and loud.
She barely noticed the smell anymore. Just when new ones hit and only for a little while.
She was the runner. The two men who had once been there had now been gone for weeks.
She had volunteered, because she was the eldest of the young left and it was to be expected. And because she needed to get out. She needed to see it. More than just across the road.
And so she got to see it.
She was horrified with herself because she had expected more, back on that first day.
It was bad. Her eyes had seen that. But her imagination had seen worse.
And she would enjoy her runs. The feel of fresh air on her face. It was almost like a bath. She had not had one in so long.
She would feel guilty for her pleasures, on the way back. She would vomit then, long thick heaves, more long trails of spit, then anything.

Everything happens so fast, the earth trembling, vibrating, so angry. It is all she knows as she stands on the sidewalk. She cannot remember what happened before this moment and it scares her.
She knows they have been hit. And she has to take cover. She has to. She has to now. She swallows hysteria in one quick, tasteless gulp.
And then she runs, but she does not know to where. She knows nothing in front of her. Things have changed. She slows her breathing. Things become clearer.
She notices rubble, thick and strong with a triangle opening. She takes it.

There is no light coming from inside. The only light comes from the triangle behind her. She is crouched, deep in her heels, but she is tall. She holds her hand out and feels nothing. She takes a few step forward. When her hand still feels nothing, she sits. She is coming out of her shock.
"I am brave," hisses a voice. "Who are you?"
She does not know if it is smart to sit there with her mouth shut tight.
But she does.


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When I was in Ottawa, abandoned and enthralled,
breathing in the
heat waves shimmering off the people
and the cats
and that lazy raccoon that I later named Mondrian in my mind
after I saw my first one,
I did not look for you.
Nor in the malls, the halls,
the magazines, in the new towns,
or down the old roads,
on silver screens, between the book shelves, down on my knees
hands in the clover.
I took you for granted.
Oh hey.
There you are.

I know myself
Far, far, far more than I let on
I know what I am doing.

Love is such an easy word.
Besides, it's a given,
We can keep it there, easy, big, broad like the straight black painted lines, it's nice.
Effortless. Quiet. Assured.
So then, I guess that it is not the word.

Punks-Starting to Remember

Minnie is 14. She likes wearing bright red lipstick and getting high.
Right now, Tommy is arguing with her. "Vitto will be waiting for me then."
"He can wait longer," she tells him. "Tell him there was too many cops following you around or something."
"Yeah," Tommy says. "That might work. Vitto would believe that. Three different cops stopped me on the street this week."
"What?" Minnie almost shouted. "Oh, Tommy. They are on to you."
“No, they aren't."
But she knew. "For sure they are. Listen. Meet me outside the pool hall at 9:30. I'll havethe dope then, Tommy."
“No. I really should go see Vitto first.” He kisses her quickly on the forehead and then runs home to make himself some Kraft Dinner for supper.

When he walks in the front door, there is Momma with a bottle of whiskey tucked between her legs, her head rolled to the back of the couch, her mouth open.
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I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold, I'm being sold-out
It is torture but
I don't even care
Except to love you more, to love myself more
Those hot-burned tears for you as I rally to save my skin
wind down me and leave behind gold and green
and I don't stop looking
until I look upon you
What on earth...
I've been sold, I've been sold, I've been sold.
I'm being sold-out.

Sunlight filtering through cracks
in the sky
in the walls
fall across your skin
I fingerpaint across your chest
Every word
known to man
and found in you

Fresh snow
Our footprints mark us
You are here!
I am here!
We are here!
Turn your face upwards
Let falling snow rest on your eyelashes
(dream of me)
Let the white melt on your outstretched tongue

It's spring.
Just one word.

I'd sit across the hall
looking upwards until I saw the flicker; light on
Sit with you while your busy hands rolled over these plains, these fields
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