I see her everything. She's crossing the street, looking both ways, holding a handbag and leaning into the pace and I see her holding her mother's hand, not listening but fascinated with the cars as the streetcrossing lesson passes her by.
Her grip on the handbag changes as she moves, and she's holding a plastic jumprope handle with candystripes or a fist of blanket or the completed test and she grasps and releases the boy's hand, the doorknob, the favorite jewelry, the edge of her pants, shirt, shoes, the handbag she crosses the street with.
She leans when she walks, a graduated stagger which in turn graduated from a fall and tears and mother again. Her feet and legs listen to her belly and her womb, everything above just hitchhiking. Touching the ground again, toe first there to miss the puddle, now steadfast to part the crowd, it's her impact you see.
I stripped her while she walked. Her foot had barely left the curb before her clothes were gone and then her skin and fat and by the time the sinew of her heel met the street she was on her way to bones and marrow.
Time regurgitated her life while she stripped and gripped. No breasts or hips or cheekbones or steeled eyes. Now smaller, and smaller again, and still smaller losing shape and definition but gaining in pomegranate potential. Hair and nails and skin and shit and food and water fly out and in and in and out and she's never the same for an instant. Yet she's smaller and more curled and more until just a point in time.
Every motion of her limbs, her face, her body echoes a motion seen or felt or inspired by something else. She's a dancing tree with invisible winds. Those movements radiate from her and oncoming walkers turn their paths slightly towards a better look or away from that bitch, cars stop or slow or don't, and where her eyes catch they are caught forever. She is an invisible wind and the trees dance for her.
So, if I take a speck of dust and I hold it to you, you understand. I toss a pinch of salt and you understand. A breath of smoke curling from my lips you understand. These are the things of our world. A wind undoing your umbrella, A smokestack pouring darkness into the sky, and a flock of birds flying formation are yet still things of your world. Now the clouds themselves, the tides of the ocean, the leaves of the forest and the cans in the alley. Only the vision changes, nothing else. Can you see? I can.
I see her everything and in it is me.
"This is basically my first time throwing a big party..anything else?"
1. Have a sober person to talk to police, who is GOOD with police - no straightedge punk who thinks "pig" is synonymous with "cop" because he won't understand why the party got shut down.
2. Hide your valuables. People bring friends, friends bring sticky fingers. Also, drunk people are heat seeking missiles for fragile things. Believe it.
3. Have a supply of grocery bags (the little plastic ones) to serve as barf-bags. You can hide these just about everywhere so they are always on-hand - and trust me there WILL BE VOMITING.
4. Provide ashtrays or gravity will supply it for you all over your fucking house/yard/center.
5. STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM TEQUILA.
6. Cheap tequila is worse for your party than under-the-sink rat poison. (see above)
7. If possible, invite your neighbors. It's harder to call the cops on a party you were invited to, and most of those bastards won't come anyway.
8. Hide "your" drink. Bottle of Jack, sixer of Corona, whatever the fuck it is hide one of it for the end of the evening when everything has been drank, snorted, stuffed up ass, etc. You'll be happy that at least YOU still have a drink - and it's value will not be lost on drunk girls looking to "party."
9. Provide as much transit as possible. Post cab company numbers all over the fucking place, try to get people to carpool/designated driver. I have a dead relative who killed herself driving drunk, and a relative who watched her friend die in front of her trapped in car behind a drunk - trust me, you don't want THAT kind of story associated with your awesome bash.
10. Lastly, make sure you have lieutenants who can take over guard/cleanup/store run/etc. duty so you actually get a chance to party. Offer them pick of the bitches or whatever you have, but you don't want to be herding cats all night - and you will be without help.
Oh enough! While you morons are canoodling, someone's burgling my miscelania.
*blasts into the air with an ancient blunderbuss*
Try to take my eggs will you? Well, this rooster has a beak - a beak that calls out death-a-doodle-doo!