But Why?

My mom and grandmother are sitting on the couch in the Kovalcik's living room. I'm in the chair across the room from them. They explain to me that if I'll dye my hair completely blonde and keep it that way that my cousin will take me to a cookie fair. They say it as if it's a punishment. My cousin pokes her head around the door and nods emphatically.

He Needs A Quiet Room

Mike and I are led to a quiet booth in a corner of the resaurant. I lay my coat over my seat and whisper to him that I'm going to use the restroom quickly and that I'll be right back.

The waitress must have stopped by to get drink orders while I was gone, because when I come back there are two glasses on the table. I take a sip of mine and am pleasantly surprised.

Dr. Pepper. He ordered me Dr.Pepper. We've been dating for ten months, so knowing what i like to drink at a restaurant really isn't that big of a deal, I suppose. But it's a little thing. One of the millions of little things that make up this BIG love.

**************************************************

Not a particularly in depth dream with metaphorical meaning or anything, but I woke up smiling.

A Wake Up Call

More often than not I wake to the sound of my phone buzzing with a text. Today I groggily reach behind my pillow and grab my phone, to see who the well wisher is, and what their wish may be.

Blaine.

What are you doing right now?

I'm in bed, so I tell him as much. Why? I start to drift back off while waiting for a reply.

Do you have any? comes the response that jerks me back to awareness.

Any what? I ask in genuine confusion.

He calls me now and laughs gently at me when I pick up sleepily. Are you in possession of drugs right now? he says this slowly and clearly, as though he's talking to a particularly dim five year old.

No...Why would I be?

I'm coming over.

Suddenly he's knocking on my bedroom door and bounding into my little cell telling me to get

up!up!up!up!

We spend the rest of the morning chasing little dust bunnies(!) around the peripheries of my room because, or so he tells me, you can smoke them if you do it right.

*****************************************************

The image fades as I'm pulled into consciousness by the buzzing of my phone under my pillow.

I look at the screen.

It's Blaine.

What are you doing right now?

But What If We Like It?

As we entered the restaurant hand-in-hand,

a young man stalked through the door.

his face was set at once in an expression

both stony and sullen.

Close on his heels, a young woman came running,

her fists desperately pummeling his back while she yelled,

"Goddamn you! Come back here and be nice to me!"

That poignant, impossibly self-contradictory plea

aimed at a retreating back

touched my heart.

I turned to you.

"Isn't it nice to see young couples

working things out?"

You smiled.

You didn't walk out.

I didn't chase after you.

You were nice to me.

Like you always are.

And I loved you.

Like I always do.

Havoc

I wake up much too soon this morning to my phone buzzing.

Barely awake, I read your message.

A German greeting to your lady.

I tell you good morning,

you're too early,

I'm not coherent.

You tell me to go back to sleep and talk to you later.

I fall back into unconsciousness.

And here you wait.

********************************************************

It's just a snapshot.

A flicker of black and white home video.

Shaky and fuzzy.

But clear in meaning.

We're leaving a concert.

You, me and him.

I don't want you in this dream.

We're walking through the lampost lit,

rainycity parking lot.

I'm holding his hand in my right one and the three of us are walking

companionably.

Then you reach out and take my left hand.

I don't want you in this dream.

You pull me closer and he doesn't notice at first.

Then he gets irritated, tugs me back.

You pull again, harder and more sudden this time.

My hand breaks free of his.

You look triumphant,

he looks speechless.

All I can think is how empty my right hand feels

without him holding it.

I don't want you in this dream.

Throwback

We're in the bed of an

old, reddish-orange pick-up truck.

It's dark and we're in the dusty parking lot of a local park.

You're nervous and showing it.

"What if someone finds us?"

"What if we fall asleep and miss curfew?"

"What if a cop pulls up?"

"What if an ax murderer comes stalking out of the trees?"

I'm nervous and not showing it.

My happiness is outweighing the nerves.

I roll to face you, run my fingers through your hair.

Kiss you softly and roll back to face the sky.

"Show me the constellations again. Please?"

The First Day Pt.2

After classes, my friends take me to this place.

I'm not sure what it is.

It reminds me of the big old houses in Greensburg.

No, the huge, old houses in the glorious parts of Pittsburgh.

But there are trees, and it's wood.

A giant treehouse, I think,

suspended above the city below.

We run around like kids again, playing hide and seek

and tag

and collapsing into a happy, comfortable pile outside the west wing balcony door.

Laura is there

and while we run I notice her dad standing in the shadows.

Then we have to go.

It's me, Kate, Blaine, Brant and a bunch of other boys

that I don't know.

I'm not sure why we're leaving, but we're up and running again,

and we jump onto/into vehicles at the base of our tree.

Kate and I are on a pink Vespa.

Suddenly we're driving through the streets of Greensburg

and they say they need to take me somewhere.

They ask me where they should take me.

I'm panicked so I point down a road and direct

toward a brick apartment building.

It was the building where my grandmother lived.

They race away before I can tell them

that my grandmother's dead

and that I have no way of getting in.

The First Day Pt.1

It's the first day of college classes.

It's a shiny building,
industrial in design.

I wonder briefly

if there are interior designers just for schools,

or if they possibly permit the preprogrammed principals

to pick the upholstery.

I am running down a long hallway.

I am late for history.

I screech to a halt in the doorway, regain composure,

and walk calmly to an empty seat in the middle of the room.

There are people I know here

-Natalie,Abby,Megan,Colin,Molly,Brant-

and others.

My history teacher hates me.

He gives me a bad grade on our first quiz,

even though I got all the questions right.

First impressions must be really important around here.

A Glimpse Into Her Life

A woman is standing in front of her mirror.

I'm in the mirror, facing her

but she sees only herself.

I'm oddly calm about being a mirror girl.

She pulls a paddle brush through her thick brown hair-

not very long, but not very short either.

She pulls a lavender cashmere top over her head.

She pulls.

This is the only image I can muster of her.