All Library locations will be closed Monday, June 19th for the Juneteenth holiday.
It’s 10 pm on a cold-for-California winter night, and there’s nothing I want to do more than to leave the ice cream shop. I drag the mop along the floor behind me, letting its weight act as an excuse for my lack of movement.
Hey, I miss you
School started yesterday and
I really couldn’t stand
You not being there
They had a pasta bar in the cafeteria
The germs wouldn’t mesh well with your hypochondria,
But the butter noodles were okay
A class clown attempted murder today.
A mother’s little boy,
a child’s best friend,
a teacher’s beloved terror,
stood over the monster who raised his freckly faced son
like the animal he’d become,
clutching a knife.
Snow is deceiving. It likes to play hard-to-get. Like so many other things in life, I have developed a love-hate relationship with the whole idea of snow. The “dog days” of summer reach their finale, the leaves start falling, and everyone excitedly awaits the first snowfall.
Standing on this stage, my life flashing before
My eyes, I remember a time of Youthful
Bliss where the impossible was possible.
Singing sweet melodies to Snow White and
The Wicked Witch, six with fans hanging
On to my every Judy Garland high note.
What is the point of pep rallies? Is anyone actually, genuinely enthusiastic? I find it much easier to believe that, seeing as we’re teenagers, we’re all just faking it, in an ironic sort of way.
***
Walking down
The hall of my high school,
The stares,
Judging,
The whispers,
Telling lies of the truth,
Tears cause by,
Always and forever,
Gone,
Hurt by you,
Love turning to hate,
The drama,
Coming alive,
Marina Green had always been the epitome of normal. She got good grades, but they were nothing phenomenal. She was pretty enough, but no great beauty. She had friends (did one count?), but was nowhere near a social butterfly.
I am an ordinary school girl,
I have homework,
I have assignments,
I have essays,
and I have tests.
“Take all the time you need,”
They said.
But now I’d much rather be in bed,
Because I’m 76 today.
My life is beginning to fade away.
“Take all the time you need,”
They said.
I hope you’re happy.
Now I’m dead.
If time could be measured in words
I would handwrite novels until my knuckles bled
Analyze every single piece written by Steven King twice
Type poems so complex so that the meaning gets lost
Construct every screenplay to give you the ending you deserve