The Wick

There was once a wick, white and spiral, that stood sturdy by the help of hardened wax. Protected from falling, she was grasped too tightly, and couldn’t ever get free. 

Why can’t I live like the rug? She wondered. It didn’t even want to move.

Or why can’t I live like a light bulb. She whined. Its light could wander for miles.

When there was no answer and she thought she’d give up, a match was made in heaven.

“If you want to be free, I’ll light you on fire, but you’ll never be sturdy again.”

The match said no more and the wick couldn’t wait. He struck her and torched her soft hair.

The wick felt a warmth she had never felt before and knew she was changed forever. The wax began to melt as her body grew taller; the flame could not stop its fire.

The wax slid past her white cotton spirals and dripped against its jar. A coldness passed her middle from the exposure of open air and she looked for the nearest comfort.   

“What do I do now!? I have no support!” The wick looked down at the floor. She had just touched the glass, but she couldn’t feel her body. She had come to the end of her rope. 

The Fire Alarm

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5 things to understand about your fire alarm

  1. Some things need more attention than others. When your alarm screams, flashing everyone in sight for seemingly no reason at all, it needs you to understand: You are his whole life.
  2. Fire alarms are sensitive. Sometimes when they go off, it’s scary. To the fire alarm, even the most innocuous threat seems real. Without your full attention, the fire alarm may feel ignored.
  3. Fires are unnecessary to sound an alarm. If peace and quiet has occurred for an unusually long period of time, the fire alarm will warn you. Under the guise of “it’s better safe than sorry”, random shrieks may be heard.
  4. If a fire alarm ceases to carry out its duty; you will not know. Like the silent, but deadly killer of carbon monoxide, a defunct fire alarm stays quiet. Instead, fire alarms may sulk, pretending everything is okay for months at a time.
  5. Fire alarms will die for you. Some may consider fire alarms dramatic. Others think they’re their hero. Either way, when taking a fire alarm for granted, there will be repercussions.

The Trash

trash

Dear Trash,

I don’t know if it’s me or you.

Are you only attracted to something sturdy because you’re rachet? If I’m your last resting place, who was your first?

It’s always the same. Cheap white plastic drooling at the corners. I see you straggle in. You tell stories about parties while I hear who used you. Friends, you say. They’ll never see you again. You smell like flavored apple cigars, but the good kind.

How could you know the difference?

Empty boxes of cigarettes with the foil left shining almost look like chocolate. It’s a special treat., you claim. Every time it opens up, the packaging is still inside.  

Or maybe it’s me. I like to be the protector: the white night in the morning. I love the way you shine even when you’re empty. Don’t tell me you haven’t felt the way I hold on.

I know you hate everything, but you know you love me. 

I make you you belong.

 

Sincerely,

Your dumpster fire

The Thermometer

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11:28pm: Hey, u up?

Thermometer 11:28pm: What’s that supposed to mean?

11:29pm: Just seeing whats up

Thermometer 11:30pm: Who is this?

11:30pm: I’m your #1 fan

Thermometer 11:31pm: Do you even know me?

11:31pm: I know ur hot

Thermometer 11:32pm: Stop texting me.

11:33pm: Ok- I’m serious now. Ur the 1 for me. I saw you at the CVS on 5th street, remember?

11:40pm: You were in the aisle all by yourself. I asked for your # and you gave it.

Thermometer 11:40pm: Fantastic?

11:40pm: u know it

Thermometer 11:41pm: That was two weeks ago.

11:41pm: I was working up the courage to text

Thermometer 11:41pm: Really? You seemed pretty cocky when you approached me out of nowhere.

11:42pm: It was a facade. I’m shy underneath

Thermometer 11:41: You don’t have anything underneath.

11:43pm: What are you saying?

Thermometer 11:52pm: You’re a carpet cleaner. Expiration date passed.

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The Guide To Modern Dating:

The Helicopter

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Dear Diary,

The other helicopter is a mud-crusted pig. I can’t believe I ever liked him. Yesterday, during the battle of boredom, he took my landing spot on purpose. I know he knew I wanted it. It was so smooth and flat and accessible. Who wouldn’t want a sturdy bookshelf?

My controller is on the verge of a breakdown. I’ve been feeling it for weeks now, but I don’t want to do anything. What good would it do if I did? The other helicopter doesn’t have these problems. He’s totally oblivious. Instead, the other helicopter glides around without any shaking or flight exhaustion. He is in complete alignment with our surroundings.

The other helicopter is entitled. He thinks he deserves a safe landing. Does he ever wonder what his safe landing is taking from me? Does he even notice my missing wheel?

Today he sat next to me on the cabinet above the office chairs.

“Just take control,” he said as if it was that easy. He was looking at the long and low windowsill, but I was looking out.  

The other helicopter can fly as smooth as cream. He’ll never leave the room.

 

-The CH-53 Sea Stallion

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The Paper Bag

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Dear Brown Paper Bag,

You were there when I was broke. You looked like something out of a postage store with your nondescript packaging. It was before the idea of dainty handles made from braided paper. Fitting in was out of style.

There’s a certain dignity to being plain when you know you’re a necessity. Frills are for those without substance. Your no nonsense attitude was perfect for packed lunches on the job. I put the beer at the bottom.

So why did you change? Did you feel the need to compete with shoulder bags? Were you trying to attract someone else? Someone who had places to go? Someone who wanted to be seen?

 

I miss giving you notes.

Don’t worry about a thing – he probably didn’t even notice they caught fire. Remember to act stupid and I’ll see you at home.

xoxo

Your favorite

 

I miss giving you everything I could find. Mints stolen from the Chinese food store down the street. Sandwiches with three different kinds of meat. You were open to everything.

I saw you, or the latest version of you, at the grocery store last week and couldn’t bring myself to walk over. Sitting in the same aisle as organic wrapping paper and blank cards featuring vaguely artistic photographs, you weren’t in the right place.

$3.99 per bag.

Let me know when you’re back to being trashy.

Sincerely,

Your ex wife

The Trinket

trinket

 

Dear Traveler,

I know how you feel, and yes, you’ve come to the right place. I can tell the kind of person you are because of the way you feel. Your wandering energy seems listless, but I know you’re searching. You want things to make sense. You’re tired of the prison your life has become. I understand. I know.

You may be wearing the same clothes as everyone else, but the colors and textures of your mind betray you. You’re different. You’re beautiful in a way that is so unique, no one else could understand the complexities of your life. You doubt yourself. You doubt your future. You don’t doubt the transition forward.

You see me hanging in a Chinatown shop on your way to somewhere else. Thousands of gold painted coins with symbols you can’t understand sit in the bowl below me. Every one of them is one in the same. You want something else.

When you first picked me up, I felt the fingertips of a person who has experienced more. You’ve seen things no one else can describe. Your emotions run deeper. Your expression flows wider.

You need me because just like you, we are both the same. We are special. Like everyone else, we know.

 

Sincerely,

Your gift

Pain Reliever

aleve

Name: Aleve

Age: Expiration date optional

Body Type: Curvy

Looking For:

Someone who is mysterious and probably misunderstood.  Substance use is acceptable as long as it’s for healing purposes only.

My Ideal Date:  

Watching old VHS tapes of Tom Waits and comparing it to your band.

Three Things I Can’t Live Without:

1.)The joy of helping others

2.)Water

3.)The back shelf of your pantry

Faith/Spirituality:

I’m at a point in my life where I know what works.  I have faith in myself.

One thing I am exceptionally good at:

Decreasing a tense situation.

Favorite Song:

Complicated by Avril Lavigne

Favorite Quote:

“Be My Headache.”

The Gold

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“I don’t do sparkles.”

“You don’t have to if I’m there.”

“That’s not what I mean.”

“Everybody needs shine in their life.”

“It’s better to be bright.”

“That’s enough.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m sick of this.”

“What ‘this’?”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“Let’s not be trashy.”

“Just because you’re old, doesn’t mean you’re classic.”

“Do we need to stay home tonight?”

“Depends if you’re going.”

“Are you?”

“Should I?”

“Yes. As long as you’re not ostentatious.”

“Why is a little attention so bad?”

“It’s not the amount, it’s the type.”

“Fine.  I’ll stay home.”

“You can’t stay home.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t want to have a bad time.”

The Bracelet

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It’s hard to always sparkle. The constant gleaming reflection gets old. Who are those people who stare at me with the greedy eyes? As if stares were rich and darkness was poverty, I pretend I’m worth more than their pockets.

A man came up to me last week, trying to put me in a box. I would make his wife so happy. She would gasp, lovingly gazing into his eyes, and melt like the gold I am not.

“Only $6.00,” said the girl with platinum highlights. “Your lucky day!”

The men always pause, as if genuinely deciding, before moving on to another glass case. Another section of the store. Another store all together.

 

But I always sparkle for the girls. They point, specifically to my beauty, and slide me against their wrist. Hand in hand we decide in unison all the places we’ll dazzle together.

“Only $6.00,” the girl behind the counter doesn’t have to tell them they’re lucky. They pay with their last crumpled bill.