Sinister: today on teen forum: novels, smokes, and india ink: get out of the la-z-boy and into a stuffy public place full of loud people and cameras.

[Kirsten Kenyon]

  i'm dreaming something about driving to china in a tomato truck, 
when something attacks me with four tiny paws, scampering from my 
feet to my face and back again. tomatoes have paws?
  "what time do you have class?" one pretty tomato is leaning against 
the door. if my mother's a tomato, then what am i?
  "eight."
  "it's nine."
  "wait, i don't have class on mondays."
  "it's tuesday."
  "tuesdays,i mean. right."
  she sighs as she softly closes the door, and i stretch slowly and 
sit up, twisting the blankets around my ankles and singing "sophia, 
i've just found this dog named sophia."  sophie really likes it when 
i put her name into songs.
  i push to my feet and catch a glimpse of my reflection in the dusty 
mirror leaning against the wall in the corner.  someone has 
printed "YUCK" in the dust. maybe my sister.  or it could have been 
me, i don't know.  it seems like an appropriate way to start the day, 
like a "GOOD MORNING, THIS IS HOW YOU LOOK."  a bit boyish, maybe, in 
my monkey-print pajama bottoms.  i squint and rub my eyes.  YUCK, you 
have ghostly pale skin and bony elbows, and a tiny scar that will 
abide as a permanent memorial to half-hearted teenage rebellion.  
YUCK, your hair looks like a mop.  YUCK, put a shirt on, already.
  i used to know this girl named jessey who planned to make her first 
million by tempting men into a building that had the appearance of a 
seedy strip club, then locking the door, stripping naked, and not 
letting anyone go home until they'd paid her to put her clothes back 
on. i told her i didn't know if it would work.
  "you haven't seen me naked!" she shoved a handful of jelly bellys 
into her mouth. jessey's best addiction was jelly bellys.
  the leaves in my tea are quite large and soggy, like wet maple 
leaves squishing underfoot after an autumn rain, or maybe like sad-
looking spinach thawing in a strainer while its fate is determined.  
congratulations, you're going to be a dip!
  i quickly drink two pints (tea in pint glasses!) and wish i knew 
greek so that i might understand just what it is that's so funny in 
the next room. 
  a boy walks in with a camera and asks if i'd mind if he got a few 
shots of me "just chillin'."  i'm not "chillin.'"  i'm learning 
greek, stupid.  it's an immersion program.
  he circles the table, zooming in on my empty glass, my stack of 
books, my sunglasses,the sleeve of my red sweater smudging the ink on 
the crossword.  he says it's for something called "teen forum."  i am 
not a teen.  
  what i am is hungry, so i look out the window and weigh my 
options.  burgers, gyros, or booze, or i'll have to walk up to the 
next block.  i remember that i am a twenty year old vegetarian, so i 
run downstairs for a glass of water and pretend not to notice the 
gorgeous scones and cheesecakes grinning hopefully at me from behind 
the glass. congratulations, i'm not going to eat you!  call it will 
power. or lack of cash.
  slava is losing himself in the stark loveliness of rita the meter 
maid.  i'm wishing for politely frosted bathroom windows and dry 
roasted peanuts.
 reggie trades in his bible for "the twentieth century in pictures" 
and a box of thank you notes, just in case he ever has cause to thank 
anyone for anything.
  

 love
 kirsten
  
  

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