Falling Down: The Paradise Edition.

My bones jolt backwards. “I’m lying in the ocean singing your song.” The ground seems wet, too hard for rain, disappeared. “Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah.” My other foot lurches behind the other, legs rigid, now back is against ground. I hear the crunch of my computer—might’ve just been my pride—and the stars and snow shine overhead: dark paradise.

Her foot seems to quiver. Up 7 inches higher than any really intended, her feline tendencies begin to fail her. Tail as tool swishes between her limbs and the ground begins to quake as faces make an “O” and before long she is in ruins. Ankles in angles skin turns green-blue.

The stars still shine, people still pass by. She still sings. Phone case broken and computer maybe dented more. More. Moar. Moore. Clothes not ripped skin not—too—bruised. Someone lent her a hand and she seems to wobble like those newborn deer before they were trapped in appropriated film for kids to laugh at. No one laughs, they lend a hand or a look—sometimes that’s all you need.

Ice sheets the pavement like butter on a cookie sheet—what is Paula Dean doing right now? Remember when she made that donut—sausage patty—egg—sandwich? What if, as she was beginning to put it in her mouth, the sausage fell out? Hit the floor? Would the cameras stop? Would the reel unreel?

Needing things is a bit too strong. Liking things? Wanting things? People? Things seem so temporary, broken by pavement where people are less apt to crack. Crack like the limbs you think Bambi will but then doesn’t. Bruises fade and mine still isn’t gone completely. Its like distant music that always stays distant because no one stops and the earth still moves.

Blue-green like her eyes like the clouds mixed with trees when she resurrects her stance upwards 6 foot 4 inches from where she lay.

A bright hell brought about by time still moving leafs still crunching and people still talking. One foot in front of the other and it won’t ever end.  “You’re no good for me, baby, you’re no good for me.” Cement into dirt into espresso into awake. “Do you think we’ll be in love forever?” My eyes can’t close.