Saturday, March 31, 2007

Rusted Nails

I'm wasting my life
You're changing the world
I get drunk and watch your head grow
The sidewalk between me and home says "A.M. '06", and I step on the crack. "Good times, bad times, sweet wines, bad wines," goes the song I'm playing, becuase I listen to Dark Reactions, if you don't.


I dreamt a film. I was the actress, the cinematographer, and the emotional moviegoer, crying in the cinema as I focused on myself and Alison, sitting on a orange sofa. We were comparing carbon-copy forms you fill out when you lose someone. Alison filled in the circle for "No longer friends". Anna filled in the one for "Would like to be friends", but in sky-blue colored pencil that didn't show on the canary copy.

Earlier, she and I and some other girl were dancing in a rainy courtyard at a sophisticated pary, wearing voluminous ivory dresses with violet and green trim. The third girl and I were dancing it backwards; she figured it out and turned around to match Alison. I knew if I turned I'd still never get it right, and I didn't try.

Three diplomats came to watch and Alison told them she was Secretary of State under President Beck. "Oh, really?" they said, and laughed, even though I'd believed her.

In the stone-flagged living room with the tangerine sofa, I zoom the camera up on the DVD case on the mantelpiece. The movie's called Don't Break My Heart With Rusted Nails. The final scene is the letters TIL, tall and white on the DVD case's black background, filling all the screen. TIL, TIL, TIL, 'til what? Those letters don't even appear in that order in the title. "A six-year-old's choice for a favorite movie," scoffs Annie's little sister from another sofa.

Your favorite imaginary friend lies awake mornings having flashbacks, nights thinking of mean things to say. I hope you go deaf and blind - then you wouldn't have to hear the way I talk or see the faces I make (and then maybe you could be nicer to me).
Well, it's been a long slow collision
I'm a pit bull, you're a dog
Baby, you're foul in clear conditions
But you're handsome in the fog

- The Cardigans, "I Need Some Fine Wine And You, You Need To Be Nicer"

1 Comments:

Anonymous Alison said...

Your subconscience has a great sense of humor.

April 01, 2007 7:53 PM  

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