And After That, I Want Everything

I drank a large bottle of beer with my sushi. They were salmon rolls with masago; fish roe; tiny, bright orange beads that burst when you bite into them. The kind of food that the very concept of horrifies you as a child but then there you are, you're an adult and there you are, loving it, considering it a treat and a delicacy. We watched an action movie as we ate. In between chopstick shovellings there were explosions and laughs and a sense that life is incredible if you find just the right combinations of it. When the movie was finished it was time for coffee so I prepared it, pouring a cup from the pot already made, stirring in artificial sweetener and heating it in the microwave. As I sat back on the couch, hot cup in hand, I felt something between my teeth. I dislodged it with my tongue. It was misago- one, final bead of it had been my passenger. This was an egg. A fish had pushed it out, or more accurrately had it massaged out by a factory worker, and now it had been in my mouth for the better part of three hours, just sitting there, stuck between molars. Life. In all its various combinations, disgusting and otherwise, there for us to pop between our teeth. It still tasted good. I smiled and washed it down with the coffee.

Of Sirens and C-Sections

Hey
Hey there
Lady
Let me burn your night down
Let me disassemble your functioning drunk
Your parallelomilligram
Your revolting insights, your
Twilight years transcribed via phonechainmailorderforms

Let me fill your calendar with made-up holidays
Infinite Looping Parade Day
Anti-Matter Deathday (Observed)
Celebration of The No
Because the fire trucks are screaming
Through terrified neighborhoods,
Blaring their horns in a portent of smoke
And jelly-flopping legs
Turning circles through parking lots and into
The telling of legends

So hey there
Lady
Come back and hear me out
I've got a pretty good deal
And you should really just
Hear me out
You might find something you've been looking for
Under ant and egg sac-stained stones

And you just might
Understate purpose,

Justify talons,
Pull back the teeth of your bear trap with
Nervous construction

And when you do,
And you see the inscription
Carved out by the marrow of dying animals
You may find it spells out your maiden name
Dressed in the scabs and fur of
Exodus and such

On Display

Standing in the window, I could see from my angle a family standing in the parking lot of a fast food shop. The mother was smoking a cigarette in sweatpants and leaning against their car. The father, in a muscle shirt, was miming a machine gun, spraying it left and right over the head of his son, who watched and laughed and clawed at his dad in approval. After his father had waved him off, I watched as the boy went to his reflection in the car's paintjob and squeezed his arms, checking the development of his biceps. I had a realization then, an image. I saw exactly who that boy would become. The radio to my left was playing a song by Soundgarden. Chris Cornell was singing, "How did I know this would be my fate?" I looked at it and a passing truck interefered with the reception, warbling his voice into an undulation. By the time I looked back, the family was gone.