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Nicole Parkinson
I can't do it, missing you and your orange juice stained cups, your porcelain orange juice stained cups. I can't do it, missing you and your dancing shoes, your wing-tipped dancing shoes. Will you still drink orange juice from stained cups, porcelain stained cups, and dance with wing-tipped shoes, without me? |
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The White Line Hazel, green, blue and brown stare each other down Chalk clumps in lines separating enemies in the green and blue jersies. "Keeper!" her hand raises "Keeper!" another palm lifts. "Timer!" a nod. One whistle. Thwack! A sphere of black and white rolls forward socks of white and green collide. Blonde, brown, and black hair swish a rainbow of hair scrunchies form Sprint! Dribble! Kick! Sweat pours off our faces. Sprint-up the field- cut to the inside. Green gains control- pushes us back, across our line- "Eagle defense!" Our coach screams. We move, a storm of blue surrounds our green nemeses. Thwack-up in the air towards our blue net. . . "Keeper!" she screams rolls with the ball holds it. Crosses our line-no goal. she stands guarding our net judging distance. and bunts it up- out and to the left. The game of Sprint! Kick! Sprint! resumes. Our leader, backtracks through a mass of green Nylon. She spots her nearing our goal -not this time- sprints-slides. A card of yellow is flashed our team's first with a score of 2 to 1 they win- but we always crossed The White Line first. Sometimes I am versatile sometimes smiling reflecting sunshine and wildflowers, sometimes crying reflecting rainstorms yet sometimes I have no emotion like skies that are a muted gray. How May I Help you? my alarm goes off 4 AM and blaring soft rock fills my room- I need to shower and get dressed. The drive is the same expanse of black top and green trees, tiger lilies line the road. My office building, the red monster, I call it. stands empty and I brew the first pot of coffee. Folgers fill the offices My mouth waters at the thought of the first cup. 8 AM I check the mail turn on the computers, the air conditioners- it's another hot one. My desk is cluttered with letters mail I have to sort. Alan, Sue, Tammy, Margaret- they're all so popular. 9 AM they all walk in chattering about their spouses, their kids. I watch taking messages and connecting phone calls Type up forms, rewrite Bia's -file- The UPS man knocks cracks a grin and a bad come on line. "Hey honey, you new here?" I sign for the computers he?s brought. Lunch Break I eat alone my sandwich soda and chips. answer more calls Kalora hands me a form I glare at the typewriter I'd only seen them in movies. 2 PM it's quiet, except for the low murmur of my coworkers on their phones, in each others office. I'm their receptionist, their 17 year old temp. the shrill of the phone has me jumping. "Housing programs, how may I help you . . ." Why'd you do it? All the blood, All the lives. We ran so fast, tripped- you kept coming. So much noise, so many bullets. I heard you laugh, heard sobbing too. Why'd you kill them? Your friends? Your peers? Did you hate us so much? Cassie believed in God. Isaiha was an athlete- they?re good people. You killed yourselves too- Why? Couldn't you face the pain? Our school echoes terror. you took away the laughter. I hear only screams, metal hitting metal, bones snapping, flesh ripping you caused it all. I wear our ribbon blue and white honor you as well. Life, a precious gift you stole we still honor you. |