In PA. Three more hours to go.
going to explore some caves.
We stood on this ground like kings,
we knew our fate,
hands clenched in tight fists,
the roaring of a distant blade being shaped
to connect with our craniums,
the blood already staining with clots
of our wives grief,
the sordid inclination to fear flight
when flight is so near.
Bethlehem shouted across the sea,
it wants peace, rain, and the carriers
carrying the shimmering fee
we have tucked so far
deep into our entrusted
Please oh please do it quick
we are suffocating in our own
tricks, we need not linger
any longer to see those we have
let down, the ones we have raised
to be navicular to our crowns,
set us on fire but let our
daughters live to write their
own tradition into their skin,
our sons to ride mountains
for the sake of a thrill.
We are lords, we are cutting the stones into our own graves,
let us go and knock on the preacher man’s cave
our own way, the way we have prepared to sin
so hard even hell won’t know what to do with bastards
- Me: Your beard feels like pubes
- Mat: *strokes beard*
- Dan: What's pubes?
- Me: Uhhhh
- Me: Pubes are...
- Mat: It's the hair around your penis
- Dan: I don't have that
- Mat: You're 11
- Dan: Do you guys have pubes?
- Me: Sometimes
- Dan: What do yours look like?
- Me: Uhhhh
- Dan: I'll just google it
- Me: NO
- Mat: YES
Five year old Zeke ran up the stairs tears in his eyes, he was clutching his stomach when he stumbled into his sister’s room,
“Jo! I did something really bad!” He screamed.
Johanna, who was 13 years older than her little brother, turned around from her studies , “What did you do this time?” She sighed heavily. This wasn’t the first time Zeke ran upstairs from the basement crying. It was usually over something stupid like, ‘Jo! There’s a big spider please kill it!’ or ‘Jo! Can you fix my power-ranger’s arm? It fell off!’ and so on. It was a never-ending story with Zeke, always something else to fix.
He was turning red, still clutching onto his stomach, tears started to soak his Bob the Builder shirt, snot was running in every direction possible, “I swallowed a nickel!” He was choking on his tears.
First, Johanna couldn’t even believe he knew the difference between a nickel and a dime. He was only five for heaven sake, so she said, “Which one is the nickel?” Thinking it would calm him.
“Come on Jo it’s the medium sized one!” And then, “The thicker one!” Zeke sat on the floor with his hands on his head, rocking back and forth.
She started to panic. With her limited high-school-based-biology knowledge of the digestive system, everything first goes down the esophagus, then moves its way down the stomach. What if it’s not making its way down the stomach?
“Oh my GOSH Zeke! You fucking retard! Why did you do that?!” She was out of her mind. She didn’t know what to do. No one was home, she should have watched him. She shouldn’t have let a five year old play in the basement alone.
He didn’t pick up on the swear and kept crying, “I know it was dumb! I’m sorry! Am I going to die?”
Then he said something that made her heart drop to her knees, “He made me do it!”
She picked him up, took the car keys to the Mazda her parents weren’t letting her drive, locked the house, and put him in the booster. Johanna wasn’t looking back to the house, she made her way to the nearest hospital. “Stop crying Zeke, it’s okay, who made you?” She started to freak out herself, “Who made you swallow the nickel?” She was calling her Dad to let him know what was happening, then asked Zeke again.
“Jerry made me. He made me put the nickel on my tongue and drink it down with water.”
Who the fuck was Jerry? An imaginary friend? Zeke never mentioned any imaginary friends.
“Is he pretend, Zeke?” She looked at the rearview mirror, noticed he stopped crying.
“No,” He said calmly, “Jerry is a man who lives in our basement. He said he has been there for a long time. I see him in the laundry room all the time.”
Let it linger a bit before it dies out,
it’s a warning sign with a glitch on the side.
Come into my tones, I dare you to dance with all of them.
There’s a haunting in the pit of my stomach, you
are throwing me underwater.
I don’t know how to describe
this state of being.
I’m tired of letting go, I just see things in
the corner of my eye and it’s making me
breathe heavy thoughts. I would
rather mark graves with my worries,
and crawl in shame into your fortitude.
Be a witness to my crimes and just
kiss me already, you bastard.
In most cases, children cherish the growth of infinity. Tomorrow has no real meaning, and the days grow longer with decisions that are not really made by their little hands.
Children have the power to influence storytellers and photographers of vast landscapes (especially those that resemble the mountains in heaven), but they also (without knowing) prolong your life and give you a reason to find
the child you are.
When I was little, the ships coming into the docks were made out of metal.
They ticked, and sometimes when they thought you weren’t watching, they would suddenly stop. You don’t want that to happen, though. That’s when fragments of their material start chasing you to hell. Their captain doesn’t really care if you got hit, because he’s already dead.
The first time it happened during my lifetime, I was in grammar school. That morning, mom (or Ima) told me to go straight to school and not stop for a jaw breaker, and yes, she knew that’s why I came home with a dyed tongue and mouth. The candy store was a five minute walk from school, and as much as I wanted to go buy the delicious treat and bathe in its forever changing colors and tastes, I was raised to listen to my parents. My dad always said, “it’s in the 10 commandments! Respect your mother and father and you will have an easier life, kiddo.”
So I went straight to school.
I don’t really remember anything from 3rd grade, let alone remember who’d I sit next to, or had a secret crush on (there was this one boy, Aviv, but EVERYONE loved him). All I do remember is that one day we used the safe house.
There was a little earthquake, it was so little it didn’t even exist. Chanie (evil teacher, used to take my math notebook and read all my mistakes out loud to the whole class), looked frantic. Her eyes shifted up and down counting us over and over again. When we were in the safe house, Hadar and Sagi were playing some hand game I was still trying to master. I was bored, it was hot, there were no windows.
Little did I know, the ships came that day, and their dock was the supermarket by the jaw breaker store. The candy store I stopped in every day of my 3rd grade year. The same store my mother forbid me to go into and ruin my appetite for dinner.
The same store my classmate’s dad got killed in.
But the captain didn’t care, because he was already dead.
My childhood got killed there, too.