go ahead, shoot a nuclear silver arrow
at the sun. then shoot a bullet
at an appletini in a highball glass
resting on my head. if your stupid
theory is correct, both
the sun and I are equally
safe from your weapons,
no matter how good or bad
your aim. except for that pesky detail
of how a dude named William
disproved that before
I was even born.
I never knew you, X,
but clearly this world
was never meant
for one as beautiful
as you.
it’s been one year
to the day
since I opened the door
of the cage I was in
and stepped out
into the light.
it’s also been one month
to the day
since I went out
on a non-date
with someone who, as
it turned out,
wasn’t anywhere near
free to be
with me.
so happy anniversaries
to me. bonné anné,
bonné mois.
I’m just a toy
you took out
because you were bored
and dissatisfied with your life,
and now your present
has come back to haunt you
the way we both
knew that it would.
so now you
must put me back
in the box. I’m no
Velveteen Rabbit;
my fur is barely even worn.
my eyes are still black
and shiny buttons,
my whiskers are
intact.
and here is the sad part:
you say you didn’t mean to do
exactly what you
actually did.
you say you’re not
the kind of person
who does things
like this. but
I’m here to tell you
that it doesn’t matter
what you meant. there’s a
reason for the expression
about actions and how
they speak louder
than words.
but don’t worry. toys
don’t have feelings.
he doesn’t want
to be noticed, except
by the right girl.
does he know
that I see him?
and if he knows,
does he care?
word’s out on the street
that you’re having
a party. guess my invitation got
lost in the mail.
no, please. don’t bother
to correct your oversight.
the sunset is bloody
this morning – unlike me.
I smoke another cigarette.
dread.
the medium looks at you
askance, as if she knows
what you want to do
to certain persons who
are no longer with us.
but your money’s as good
as any other mark’s, so
she dials up the Ouija board,
fully expecting to be able
to phone it in, as usual.
brooding like a hen
on a nest, hoping your
death will come soon,
talking to my own
body like a disobedient
child – how dare you?
who do you think
you are? if there’s
someone in there, I’m
kicking you out. enjoy
the cigarette smoke,
coffee, weed smoke, alcohol, lsd,
rich foods, tooth bleach, staying
up late and coma-like slumber.
enjoy these sick beats I made,
and then get out. it’s
nothing personal; I’m just not
ready for you. now’s not
a good time. I’m used to being
alone in this body, and I like it
that way.
you’ve gone away to clear
your head. good.
if you’re going to
come to me, I want
you to do it because
you truly want to, not
because I look like the only door
out of the cage
that you are trapped in.
she hugs
everyone. I know, I see it,
and still I’m jealous. she gets
to hug you. I hug
a lot of people, but
usually they initiate
it. how did she get
to the place where
she’s able to hug you?
can I have
the map? I want
to go to there.
R. Brookes McKenzie 