Caitlyn

It's my first day at work and this young girl is an eager stranger
yet something unnerving clouds our introduction and all I can remember is her mouth.

Her mouth with the corners that turn down in a way that makes my stomach sour
even though she has a pretty smile.

A pretty smile, with full lips and straight, white teeth, unaware that its particular phenotype only reminds me of another mouth on another girl.

Another girl who used to be my friend with another mouth that used to laugh with me
and share wine and secrets and shadows.

Shadows now hang low over my brow as I try and focus on her questions
though all I hear is the blurred sound of air pushed through that mouth.

That mouth of a stranger that makes me want to slap her for being such a hypocrite
with the laughing and the wine and the secrets.

The secrets that she didn't tell with her mouth turned down were actually the most telling
...but this young girl is just an eager intern and it is only my first day at work.

Body Cumbersome

My legs wet sandbags.

My eyelids leaded curtains.

My bones rusted gears. 

This hour of the morning doesn't come easy, but it does come fast.

My calves are aching from leading four hours of lecture in four inch heels. Why did I do that? 

Eavesdropping on the students one day, Nina overheard them list my name in the "Top Three Hottest Teachers" category. I laughed out loud. 

How easily these corn-fed boys are trapped into ranking beauty by blonde highlights and knee high boots. Would they think so highly of me if they heard my dirty mouth? If they knew my secrets? If they saw my body covered in ink? Certainly not if they heard me sing the words to Razorblade like I mean it.  

Those boys have no idea how truly fucking beautiful I am. 

And yet, I wake up early to scrape away the sand, peel off the lead and paint over the rust. I apply a new face and dress up as if my mother had ever taught me how to be pretty. 

From red to green

"Red crayons - the fat kind that little kids can hold," he explained.
Stop lights.
Cooked lobsters.
Beating hearts.

"I'm green now, so there's no reason to behave that way ever again. I just need some more colors to fill the palette."

I steered from his cerebral chromatism towards more tangible things.
"Have you found your social security card?"

"You know I can't enter any federal buildings. The frequency is just too high."

"But you can mail in the application for a replacement, right?"

"When I get close, you can literally see the smoke coming out of my ears."

I chatted with him for another twenty minutes or so, trying to keep a positive tone. It's like entertaining two separate conversations - my half anchored in reality and his half abuzz with sights, sounds and reactions that no one else can sense.

Through the delusions and scattered rambling, I know he's still in there.
He is my big brother.