Home   Home

dinner out and you know what?

by Brynn Dizack

ninetwentyfive pm

had dinner with my parents and the
movie
sucked

you can't just kill someone; my throat clenched i watched the dirt fall in clups on the ducttaped bag my hands stuffed hardintomytechvestpockets but my arms were bare

i shivered

i should have brought a jacket.

how many hands have mine held? how many spoons, how many pens howmanyanythingatall or how many of vanessa's razors

how many times did i count them how many songs on a dar williams cd how many frost heaves between my house and the school haw many times have i driven the car alone and how many times was it legal

seventeenelevenfortyseven
and ten
not counting the time i never left the driveway.

howmanydayssinceemilyandiwerespeaking
i can't remember

howmanyminutes past twelve
three


why did i do it last time?
i can't remember

then wasn't it pointless?
what does it matter to you

how would it feel to be anyone but you?
why are you asking me?


theywerelaughingtheywerelaughingtheywerelaughingtheywerelaughingtheywerelaughing
i hardly feel at home there anymore
tina says, be reno. you are the diva reno. scott says i would have forgotten anyways and megan laughs. i dance. i try to dance. i pretend i can dance, i saw nathan atkinson once with jazz flats on press the bridges of his toes against the loft floor jutt his knee out and bend the top of his foot so it made a C shape

so i do that all the time at rehearsal

it makes me feel professional

like i should have a fucking énteerauge.


how many minutes since twelve-oh-three?

ten
nine
eight
sevensixfive
four three
t
w
one.

03/18/2002

Posted on 03/18/2002
Copyright © 2022 Brynn Dizack

Return to the Previous Page
 

pathetic.org Version 7.3.2 May 2004 Terms and Conditions of Use 0 member(s) and 2 visitor(s) online
All works Copyright © 2022 their respective authors. Page Generated In 0 Second(s)