fake blood

i wrote this months ago. morgan likes it. i have faith in morgan. i need. to write. more. often.

Last night:
I was curling my hair for the first time
You phoned to tell me about
witnessing
An accident on Crowchild-
“I saw them use
the Jaws of Life
to pull this man out
he was probably dead!”

I was shaving my legs,
and then i went out:
I was wearing other people's clothes
I listened to other people's music
I took pictures,
and started drinking
"It was like there was no front of the car
it was so totaled
It was just the back end
of a car."

Now my friend's Dad is dying:
he was always so healthy
They think it's genetic.
I was reading poetry
"now I'm waiting again
and the years run thin...
I hope death contains
less than this."

I was focusing a little too hard:
"I wish I could understand poetry,"
says you
"me too,"
says I, and
"I am so sorry about your father,"
and
"are you alright, though?"
"yes, yes, they're sweeping up the glass now,"
says you,

and so am I:
I was smoking for the first time
on bleachers where I grew up
where I once played hide and seek
where I once raced
and filmed movies for fun.
we talked in the car in the alley
where I once walked to the bus stop
at the end
Now there are pools of orange light there
"with you, and then him
it was hard, it was like
missing a leg."
says you.

I ignored it:
Alex believes in shadow people
and in ghosts
like I do,
but you don't.
"I’m fine, that was
exactly
what I needed"
says I.

Now I’m sweeping up the glass:
when I wake up
it's noon
on Sunday
my hair is uncurled
I’m wearing my own clothes
the alley and the bleachers are full of snow
(and so am I.)
cars are speeding down Crowchild-
I took a picture
to show you later
What a good job they did of
sweeping
up.