Seven Things about Gin
How the First Feels:
The green bottle, its label preying the glitter-lit way, studies my lips with a cool detachment. Why did I bring you here? For your synapse to flutter-sing. If I go up, I’ll certainly scour down. Curious bubbles. Curious breasts, iridescent pink bra, and ledge.
Magic:
The wall opens! No, no, I threw something.
Economics of:
How would you like to spring break with me in Alaska? Tomorrow. The last five moments? Wrote a poem on a cocktail napkin about a gargoyle, a baby carriage, and a blinking can of Pringles. Texted words absurd to Sarah. Bought an 84 dollar Sherlock Holmes figurine off Ebay. Ouch. There is a wound in my right palm, the shape of a question mark. Both Achilles are torn. I love you, man.
Slurred Word Problems:
Everyone plurs a religion. Two trains smooch the gate. There are 14 significant truths: body’s slowly turning, and mathematics.
Advice:
The wall opens! Surgeon Major strolls in. Says, “Look, kid, I know I’m not a general, but you got to listen. Does your right upper torso throb?” It does. “It does? Ah, I’m afraid I’m done here.”
Sound Potential of Glass:
clunk, spish, boom.
Sean Lovelace is standing in a river right now. He has a spinning rod and a beer. Other times he teaches at Ball State University. HOW SOME PEOPLE LIKE THEIR EGGS is his flash fiction collection by Rose Metal Press. His works have appeared in Crazyhorse, Diagram, Sonora Review, Willow Springs, and so on. He blogs at seanlovelace.com
© 2009, Metazen. All rights reserved.
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