Sinister: every breath we drew was "hallelujah"

[Kirsten Kenyon]

  i met a man with a cockatoo today.  he looked like a man with a 
plan, kicking back on a saturday afternoon with a bottle of pumpkin 
ale, shiny green sunglasses and a pretty curly-haired woman on the 
one arm and on the other, a cockatoo, bobbing his white-feathered 
head.  a kid in a diaper running through clouds of smoke and his blue-
haired brother, seven years old, telling knock-knock jokes to a 
couple of old hippies in straw hats at the next table.  a velvet-
skirted girl pulled up on a pink scooter and sat down next to me, 
grabbed my notebook and wrote "Cancer bear, there's been a fat eskimo 
disaster.  i forgot about fat tony!"  she wrote "smoochie smoochie" a 
few times and drew some hearts, then ripped the page out of my 
notebook and handed it to a red-haired girl in pinstripes.  after 
that, i was writing a letter to my one-and-only Mountain Mama Bronwyn 
and an old man with a cigar he could barely fit his lips around 
stopped dead in his tracks, stared me down and said "oh, darlin, are 
you writin a love letter?"  i told him "no" and he asked again, so i 
said "yes" and gave him a little wink.  this seemed to satisfy him, 
and he stumbled on and i went inside for some more water for my tea,  
and when i came back there was no one left on the patio but an old 
man telling himself "it's gonna be alright, my brother."  and aside 
 from the repetition of this sentence, the only sound was muffled 
classical music from vinifero and the bells on the trolley buses 
swelling as they passed and fading into the distance.  that's the 
doppler effect, right?  or maybe doppler was just a meteorologist, i 
can't remember.
  ginger is going to be a meteorologist, and she goes out in a van 
and chases tornadoes.  she has shiny brown hair and almond-shaped 
eyes the color of an autumn sky, like today's.  we used to be 
roommates at valparaiso.  the entire football team was in love with 
her, but she didn't care, or even seem to notice.  ginger is 
absolutely unreal.  and she always had the morning weather report, 
and she often left cookies on my pillow.
   i sat outside for awhile longer today, and a boy walked past 
holding a copy of jonathan david.  i wanted to say hello, but i was 
too scared.  so i drank a bit and listened to jeff buckley.  maybe he 
is on sinister.  not jeff buckley, rest his soul, the boy.  that 
would be nice.  anyway, that's all.  it was a boring day, my day 
off.  work should be a nice time tomorrow.
  xoxo
kirsten



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