Tuesday, September 3, 2013

(in the next moment I forgive her)

And why can't I.

I smile at the young woman seated across from me on the subway. She holds my eye contact and does not smile back. Goddammit. We're starting a war in Syria because we can't even smile at each other on the subway. I shake my head in her direction. I make believe that she looks contrite as she turns away. I will resent her for this forever.

In the next moment I forgive her.

I have been sitting in the apartment for hours feeling lonely. I've only just remembered to listen to music. I do not want to go to sleep for fear of the bugs crawling into my orifices. It could happen. I read about it online.

Corn Plant, my dear friend, I lament lament lament our parting. Ours was a good and dedicated friendship; you are a good and dedicated corn plant; you have grown even in this apartment, where I watched my other friends die. On the day that I leave I will carry you to the courtyard and hope that someone cares for you, as I have looked after Tyrese and the other stray cats these hot months. Give them shade until your leaves wither and your determined stem begins to droop. I will remember you as a beacon of solace and an inspiration.

The roaches have taken my kitchen utensils, my mattress, my paperwork, my paper bags, my sleep, my corn plant, and a large portion of my sanity. Let this be a lesson: Even the tiniest creatures can make an impact.

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