Oriental Blonde Dye  I chop the blonde ponytail off and hang it on the wall. it keeps on growing. It grows onto the floor and I braid it into the shape of an oriental rug. Blonde oriental braids. I tie off the ends of the rug with tiny ribbons. I want to match my house right? I dye my hair blonde with herbal essence shampoo and tattoo my skin with a light blonde oriental pattern Bleaching myself. The rug and I become one. I decorate the house with paddles, perfume, and sperry shoes, I trap the flies with pink lacrosse sticks. But they aren't flies. they are winged pearls. I keep them in my 34AA pots sitting in the cupboard. Josh and Josh text me. We will have soup. Blonde hairs stream from the sink. I boil it in a Double Dee pot. It turns to a blonde auburn. I sprinkle in my pearl flies and pour it into three 34AA bowls. I hear the ponytail ring. Josh and Josh are at the screen door. They are faded. All I see are their pink, preppy pants and Sperry shoes. Hands in pockets. The rest of their bodies are dark blurs. But they see me as a flash. Over-exposed. Just a blindingly bright white figure with an outline and red eyes. Even the oriental tattoos are washed out. Perhaps I can't see Josh and Josh because I am so bright. A blonde smile. We sit at the table where a beautiful lens flare hangs above as a chandelier. The lens flare hangs between me, Josh, and Josh. I laugh, but only hear my jokes. We slurp the auburn blonde soup with pearl flies and drink champagne out of jars. They hold the 34AA bowls tightly as they slurp the auburn hair. I pretend they are really funny. Really really funny. When they are finished they leave. I lock the door, sit in my massage chair and watch skin on a screen. The colors and oriental tattoos dissolve back into my skin.
Vines of a Gatorade Vineyard  The Nantucket red sea swims with golden retriever whales, but is patterned with the whales of vineyard vines. I am made of salmon stained pearl, and yes I have pearly cellulite. I live in a shingled skyscraper with a white pickett fence. Everything matches of course. My skin matches my teeth, my phone matches my skyscraper, My bra matches the sea and my roommate Josh matches the gatorade ads plastered throughout our town. That nuclear yellow liquid is all we drink, piss, and sweat. Every Tuesday, Josh and I get drunk on gatoritas and go speak reggae with the guys by the "water" tower. I'm attracted to Josh but I would never admit it. He's too commercial to like me back. I almost told him yesterday when we got our photos taken. There was this life size poster of a man riding a bike with a hole cut out in the face. Josh put his face in the hole and I took his picture with a shingle. He looked so silly! Bikes are so ridiculous, just ride a golf cart. I'm glad I've never been on a real one.
The Purgatory of Ansel Adams  I stare at the sky five feet above me and into the majestic black and white mountaintops on the Ansel Adams wall paper before me. We sit in a jacuzzi reflecting the wallpaper so symmetrically that it appears as if we have been cropped at the breasts. I take a breath of fresh air conditioner as my boyfriend sips the Buffalo Time Bourbon he bought to coordinate with the "nature." We talk about rocks, the supernatural, natural, and unnatural kind, how "nice" this is, and how matched we are with each other and the postcards surrounding us. We look hardcore. Decked out in a sandy sepia filter with our fluorescent oakleys on. We even pasted our hair up to seem as if its blowing in the "wind." His friend Josh comes in the door, cynical and smooth with his under armor tattoo. Back from a day of poster boarding, He subtly brags about the chicks he met on the black leather couch chairlift and how he tagged his name on the paper cement "snow." We smoke cinnamon scented candles and pretend to be amused. He cooks a pot of fluorescent fondue. It wasn't very good. The sun is apparently setting, but instead of setting into a different hue, it sets into a different screen saver.
Drop Shadow  Josh had a drop shadow. It was so dark and blurry and warm. I wanted it. It was his support and I wanted mine. I asked and he said he'd cut it in half for me. I took the drop shadow and dragged it on the sidewalk in the gradient sunset. I wrapped it around me as the day turned to night. In the night, some had glowing drop shadows, but mine just faded. Instead of music there is motivational speaking. Most of it is just bragging. I walked alongside the windows with photorealistic prints of raindrops on them. The men were placing reflections on the road to look like it had rained. they didn't even have drop shadows. They blended just like me. I followed the motivational speaking into a box built above ground.
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