And Katrina Slaughtered Behind Our Backs

Let's pretend.1

Let's pretend that we are small and tiny and insecure.  And let's pretend that we are young and filthy and eight.  And let's pretend that our eyes are huge and buggy and innocently blank with a truth that would flicker in and out of existence every few seconds.  And let's pretend that our greatest triumphs are the scars that we wear on our thighs that run down like molten wax on a candle and that our most precious accessories are our skinned and broken and bruised knees.2

That tremble and shake and buckle without warning.3

And let's pretend that you and I are playing a game in the backyard with its worn-down wooden fence that juts out of the ground unceremoniously to strut its ugly exterior.  And let's pretend that the sky is marbled and gray and cool against your lemonade-wet skin, just bordering on bursting like a little soap bubble and spraying debris all over your hair.  And let's pretend that this, this small and tiny and insecure and young and filthy and eight and huge and buggy and innocent and scarred and skinned and broken and bruised world, is all that there will ever be, sitting like an unremarkable cinderblock  wedged between the plastic tub of a pool and wiley snake of a hose.4

That heaves and whimpers and cracks with every breath.5

Let's pretend that we're building a house out of rough cardboard and words saying 'FRAGILE' in large capital letters and mispointed arrows sprinkled at odd angles over the edges.  And let's pretend that our little, crooked house sitting out in the tall wilderness of our pointed fence-wall is quivering and shaking and falling and I'm crying, because.6

Oh.7

This is where we were supposed to live out our happily ever afters.8

And let's pretend that you take my hand yours all chubby and fatty and fleshy and sticky and tell me.9

It's okay.10

Nothing is perfect.11

And let's pretend that I believed you and smiled and wiped the diamonds and glimmer and light from my eyes and held your hand like it was the only thing I'll ever need as I sit in the ruins of my paper sanctuary.  And let's pretend that I hiccup and sniffle and grin through the ruddiness of my swollen eyes and flushed cheeks, and say.12

I'm thirsty.13

And let's pretend that you and I walk in hand-in-hand, smiling, giggling, and gurgling through the mesh of the screen door.  And-and-and.14

Let's.15

I think it looks like sunset over the rows of vintage flowers, like the death of a million suns setting across the decor of your walls.  And I think that it looks like what the Red Sea must look like, because I'm young and stupid and I don't know what I'm talking about, and because I can't stop looking at your mother who is looking at the flowers that are slowly disappearing beneath the stain of crimson that is slowly seeping over the image.  And I think that it's.16

And I think she looks like a doll with those glassy eyes that look unblinkingly into the space between the sofa and the antique lamp.17

Beautiful.18

You're screaming and crying and wailing as you rush to her and shake her with your tiny little hands that are too small for anything but a cookie.  And you're yelling.19

Oh.  Oh.  Oh.20

My mother's dead.21

And so I take your hand into mine and say.22

It's okay.23

Nothing is perfect.24