shesells--seashells

These are roads tangling the five o'clock traffic. Blue to blue--don't mess up now--violet to violet. These are the veins of the future. See flawed yet flexible, see coiling around your finger. These are drapes, pinned on telephone poles for a splash of decor. Slimmed, they're anorexics laid horizontal. Their copper souls are suffocated, trapped by flesh. These are the strings of words, out of my mouth, into yours.

The Laundromat was empty, save for me and the old woman sitting in the corner. She had wavy grey hair falling to her knees and in her face that blended with the color of her dress, floral print and belted above the hips. Her skin was like tissue paper, folding in the years, and her knuckles were like the sea with her fingers stroking them to try to calm something inside. She was trying to sort her laundry into two baskets, but lights kept mingling with darks, stretched underwear kept mingling with tattered bras, Sunday dresses kept mingling with footed pajamas. She loaded the first basket into a machine that boasted a sign saying Out of Ser

"Look what I got at the mall today," the mother said. "What?" asked the girl. "Just open it and see." "Have you found Shelly, Mommy?" The young mother sighed and dropped the package on the little girl's bed. "No," she sighed. "Listen love, Shelly's gone. But why don't you go on and see what I got for you today?" The little girl choked back a sob and went into the kitchen. "Do you want some juice, Mother?" "You'll spill it," she called from the bedroom. "Let me come help." "No. You always say I'll spill it. I never spill it. Trust me," the girl said. She pulled the apple juice from the fridge and stood on a chair, pouring it s

"How do you know we won't fall?" she asked, looking over the edge as the wheel began to rotate. "I've been riding these since I was little, baby. We'll be fine," he said. His eyes closed and he leaned back into the bucket seat. "But how do you know? This time could be different. I wish I could fly. If I could fly, it wouldn't matter, and when we fell, I'd swing back up and rescue you. Did you know that, Kenny? I could rescue you." Her eyes were wide and she bounced, tilting the bucket back and forth. The ride churned to a stop. "What's happening?" she gasped. "Sit still, sweetie. All this rocking makes me sick." "You know what? I bet Mo

"This is a bad idea." "What is?" "This." "Don't be stupid." "I won't be," she said, getting up for the door. Aaron latched onto Rachel's jeans and pulled her back down. "We'll be fine." "How will I get home?" "I'll drive." "How?" "Easy." "You can't drive like this." "I haven't even done anything yet. By the time we have to leave, we'll be fine." "What if we die?" "You have to smoke a lot to die." "You already had a beer," she argued. "You can mix 'em. Settle down." "What will I tell my mom?" "She won't notice. Wear sunglasses." "At night?" "Sure." Rachel sighed and watched as Aaron pulled the pipe to his mouth and flicked

"He loves me. He loves me not," she said, her eyebrows furrowed as the petals fell to the ground. "He loves me. He loves me not." "Quit being so retarded," he told her. "You don't have much room to talk." He sighed and laid his head back on his arms, his eyes closed despite the cloudy sky. It was spring weather. School would be out soon. "This is stupid," she decided after the last petal fell on "he loves me not." "I told you." She pinched off another dandelion by the stem and held it up to her nose. He shook his head again and tried not to laugh. "He loves me not again? How come this keeps happening?" she asked. "Jesus Christ t

The sticky juice ran between her fingers and down her sun baked chin, left sores on the corners of her mouth. She'd bite straight through the pulpy flesh until she reached the heart, strings of fruit caught in her teeth. The smell hung on her like a necklace. But it was the memory of tradition, the thought of every Mauriama woman, that kept her picking the fruit from the trees every morning.

The river fell over the edge of the cliff like ribbons. Nadia stared as the rubber duck sailed along, picking up speed until it finally leapt over the waterfall. She turned around, her dark curls blowing against her pink cheeks. "I guess we'd better go," she announced. She hugged her jacket close and watched her words come out in white, foggy vapor. "Yeah," the boy replied. "Funny, isn't it?" she asked, linking her arm in his and leading him on. "How the river doesn't freeze?" They marched across the frosty grass. The park was empty save for the few shaking dogs and their owners, and the couples huddled together on swings. "It's not tha

We'd skip to the pond arm in arm, she the tin man and I the lion, both of us searching for something we never did find. One… two… three— and she'd yank me into September water where we'd wait for our teeth to unclench and let our toes sink into Carolina clay, silky and holding the waves still. Like children rushing through prayer, we'd clasp our hands around minnows, only to open them and find nothing but the dusty pond that sparked in sunlight.

After the knots had been ripped, slashed, bitten out of my hair, Mama would wind three wet locks into a loose braid. Her fingers brushed my spine as she sang "Dreamboat Annie"; I'd feel my face stretch under dried tear stains while fighting a smile. But one day, I pulled away, never able to replicate Mother's slim fingers and learn to braid on my own.

I go through each day  just trying to be honest  but there are some things I still can't say  and within secret thighs  I pride myself on knowing too much  I found a pinkish flower  it smelled a lot like you  or maybe that's just me pushing my mind  for what I want it to conclude.  I wake up feeling dizzy  disastrous mistakes on the rims of my eyes  cigarettes leave ashes on my pants  but I don't smoke, you're sitting too close  And I think I missed a step, or didn't catch the joke  cause this all seems so foreign to my ears  you've given me nightmares with some of the fantasies you wrote  do you know part of m