HEY THERE WILDFIRE

by heytherewildflower



She looked like someone who had just burned her favorite city down. burned down her favorite city. plush dog given to her on a 10th birthday, burning quickly. Favorite city, the sea-foam shell tessellation in the bathroom’s wallpaper which sometimes spun itself into Botticelli when glared upon with that peculiar combination of cross-eyed concentration, and rage,
and lunacy.

sea-foam pearls curling salmon flames.  ruddy skin reddening by osmosis.

*

Her lips. The Gordian Knot, the knotted cosmos, Cosmonauts, naughty politicians gone prodigal. The sky kept spinning like a spider with steam burning a hole through it’s web. The night kept singing steam.

*

Her favorite was red leather bleeding at the seams. Favorite was the word, “crust”, was the word “puss”, was the word “love”. Her favorite was the sour cliche of burning hair and those who vouched for it’s nastiness. Nastiness was her favorite. Insincere destructive acts. Inconsequential noise. people who used the word “zeitgeist”. Coffee shops named after jazz musicians. Cats named Mingus. Green and orange Ming vases broken by a duo of Jellicle klutzes. T.S. Eliot’s semantic fascination with moonlit Marilyn. 21st century Romantics  fallen upon the spell, citing suicide and sexiness without a breath for separating sibilances. Breathy birthday.

Dial M.

*

and city, her’s,
burning. The burning city beneath
the burning city.  city burning beneath
the  skin. ash and ash and eyelashes caught up by ash, and lace and black velvet and the dead dog and it’s lolling tongue.

Does it ever
stop

curling and lolling it’s tongue?

*

She couldn’t remember if she had set it alight herself or merely fallen asleep and dreamt of it’s destruction.

Did it matter?

*

What Does America Mean To You?

America means All-Night-Convenience.

Convenience stores. zombies. alter egos. Hollywood. FuckingPsychoAnalysis. FuckingFreud. FakeFuckingTits. Hitchcock. Birds. Bees. Bees gone rogue. Weak at the knees, dressed to the nines, incisors, meat you can sink your teeth into, no hat no cattle no boots, no sex, no kink, no kick, no work, no play, no jack, no jil, no tumble down or downward spiral, nor horse, nor getting back on it or up it or water to lead no horse to, nowhere but up, but wait for Bardot, God damn sweet bosom, sweet home, sweet casa

*

Nursery Rhymes stuck the moon in the sky and painted her like a dying Marilyn.

Nursery Rhymes claimed lullabies, and stars stuck, tree tops struck silly by loony moon love, as the cradles rocked our babies to their skull shattering deaths.

America means All-Night-Convenience.

Means Midnight.

Means  Missouri native T.S. Eliot moved to England only to write unrequited love letters to tragic fat cow and country bumpkin, our miserable American Marilyn.

*

The city burned behind us as you kissed my face, and
at some point, it stopped hurting.

it all stopped.