It’s all your fault
What happened to you? Is the magic really gone? We used to walk down dark and lit up streets with red cheeks and loud smiles. What happened to the surprise kisses? The warm embrace you used to give me is gone. It used to be late nights laughing til we cried, sharing secrets we never told a soul. It used to be we held each other til morning playing that song you love so much.
It’s all your fault. We used to dance in the kitchen and taste our love. I remember I used to kiss your forehead
“Just remember my lips, darling”
I woke up next to a stranger today.
Tomorrow shall I wake up to another?
That night we were on the balcony nestled on a hammock, swaying gently to the sound of the moon, cold things pressed against mine. I kissed your shoulder,
”Just remember my lips, darling”
It’s all your fault. I used to sit in bed and you’d pull my head into your shirt and I’d feel your warm chest and I said this was all I would ever need.
Today I woke up next to a stranger again.
I sat on the bed and instead of pulling my head onto your chest you kissed my forehead
”Just remember my lips, darling”, you said
A salty kiss like rain fell down my brow and hit the ground.
You walked out the door,
Into the car of a stranger.
Wasps Nests
Working as a groundskeeper at an apartment complex isn’t exactly the most exciting job in the world. I pick up dog shit all day mostly. I just started a few weeks ago and the days are pretty much all the same. I get there thirty minutes early, clean the office, pick up trash (again mostly dog shit and cigarette butts), change a few light bulbs here and there, and ride around in a golf cart as much as I can.
Today I was checking the lights on a building by the south west corner of the complex. I was sweeping up against the walls cleaning the spider webs and dust, I reached higher and higher, reaching as far as my arms could until a swarm of wasps came falling down like a small waterfall onto the ground. Instantly I dropped my broom and sprinted down the stairs and started feeling itchy everywhere. I reached my cart and gathered myself. I checked for stings and saw nothing yet but I felt like something was crawling on my arms or I’d feel a small little bug on the side of my head or the back of my neck. You know that little itch I’m talking about. I couldn’t help but swat at it or rub my hands around it waiting to feel a wasp stuck to my skin.
I went back to my golf cart and took it to the shop and found the can of wasp killer. I drove as fast as my dinky little golf cart could take me until I was back at the spot of death full of wasps but I came back to nothing. All the wasps were gone along with their nest. I still felt a little paranoid but I kept on cleaning the walls of the breeze ways again.
I went on to the next building, this time a little more vigilant than before and saw it. Another wasps nest up in the corner of the wall. I was ready this time. I stood back aimed my little wasp killer can and sprayed right at it for a few seconds while the white foam covered the yellow jackets and for a second nothing happened. Then they fell. Some were stuck to the white foam slowly dripping down the wall along with the foam. I felt accomplished, only for a moment, and put the lid on the spray can. I began walking down the stairs when I saw the little wasps on the ground and suddenly they didn’t seem so frightening anymore. I remember them writhing on the ground, grasping with their legs at something, anything. None of them were lucky enough to die instantly and I just stood there saddened by what I had just done. They were aggressive yellow jacket wasps after all and I couldn’t just leave them there to grow and make a bigger nest. It was my job to get rid of them but seeing thsee tiny little beautiful creatures, drag themselves across the floor, squirming, covered in foam, kicking its legs out, grasping onto its last moments of life, I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by its tragic death. I know it’s stupid but I felt like a monster. I sat down on one of the cement steps and sat there, wishing I could do something to make it end its needless suffering. I couldn’t just step on them all, there were too many and would stomping them really be more dignified than this cruel torture I was putting them through? Five minutes passed. Ten minutes. Fifteen minutes. Still these poor winged things were writhing excruciatingly in pain. Finally I decided I’d put myself through enough and moved on to the next breezeway and climbed up the stairs once again only to find another wasps nest, and another, and another.
Mud, a Storm, and a Cabin in Laos
Even when I light my cigarette, I think of you. I never used to smoke. At least, not like I do now. I remember us, in the complete dark, holding each other, walking barefoot in the mud because we said we wanted to feel like hippies. The rain was pouring down on us, sticking our clothes together and making our skin slippery, yet we held on. The only thing leading us back home was lightning illuminating the beaten path.
It was just one long straight road, after all. We only had to follow it, as we had over the past week, but today was different. It was just us.
I remember your goofy laugh and that childish smile. We weren’t doing anything out of this world. We were just walking through the rain, in the middle of a storm, trying to get home. It was almost a little scary, being there in the complete dark, trying to take us back in a place we had only been a few days but something about you made me feel brave and strong. At one point we even slipped and fell and our whole back and legs were covered to the brim with dirt and mud but we just laughed. I loved that. Anyone else would have taken it as a loss and felt defeated but you made it an adventure.
Finally we saw our little wooden cabin and walked up the rickety stairs to our little room with the hammocks on the balcony overlooking the Mekong River. We were both dirty, filthy, wet hippies walking barefoot in South East Asia and you never looked so beautiful. You grabbed the key from my hand and walked into the room and grabbed your pack of cigarettes and stormed back outside. You looked at me for a second with that devilish smile and kissed me. I put my hand out and grabbed a cigarette and lit yours for you. There we were. Lost on an island, sitting on our hammocks outside of a little wooden cabin smoking our cigarette.
Now you’re a few thousand miles away with him, and I’m alone. I never told you but it’s the only thing I can do that can make me feel close to you. I still think of you, even when I light my cigarette.