Slow-Death-A

Is what we used to call Odessa
Or what my cousins called it
Seeing as I’ve never been and have no desire.

Tyler- we called Tired
Waco- Won’t Go.
Abeline- Ain’t Never Been

And our home- Galveston-
The little sandbar where my grandmother was born married and buried
With the streets we know by heart
That place we called Galvatraz.

My cousins and I, in the summer
We would drive around in my uncle’s truck slurping alcoholic slushies
Trolling the Target
Waiting for the sun to go down so we could smoke in the cow pastures and count the stars.

And life kinda goes like that down there
Or maybe it’s like that everywhere
In Tired
And Slow-Death-A
And in
Galvatraz
A small town at the end of a long road
So far from Heaven
So close to Houston.

Ode to Insomnia (#4)

There’s the sleeplessness that comes from a 6pm coffee-

And another kind when a bed-mate snores

There’s the 5:30am walk around the block kind of sleeplessness

During which you worry how your life will turn out and whether or not the one-armed guy is following you.

Then

There is the sleeplessness that makes you climb out your window

Up your fire escape to the roof, a pillow under you arm.

The kind that makes you lay out and stare at a starless Manhattan sky- 

You note the hums of occasional planes

The orange glow haze of cloud cover and city lights

There’s really nothing to see.

And yet-

It’s just you and the city- and it’s kinda sweet

You stare at the orange blank sky

You wonder whether your neighbors can see you and if you look insane

You run your hands along the gravel roof tar. 

You wish you had brought a blanket but you don’t dare move.

And then 

inexplicably

you and the city and the orange haze and the plane hums and the pillow and the walks and your crowded heart and the coffee and the worrying and the man with one arm

you finally

simply

drift away.

staff:

Today’s the day. The day you help save the internet from being ruined.

Ready? 

Yes, you are, and we’re ready to help you.

(Long story short: The FCC is about to make a critical decision as to whether or not internet service providers have to treat all traffic equally. If they choose wrong, then the internet where anyone can start a website for any reason at all, the internet that’s been so momentous, funny, weird, and surprising—that internet could cease to exist. Here’s your chance to preserve a beautiful thing.)

Taking a break from the feely poems. Tumblr is a rockstar company for going to these lengths. They helped me call my senator and lend my voice. Go Tumblr!

FOR BUZZ

Ben moved to Marfa three days before I met him at an art installation inside the old ice factory right by the railroad tracks.

He’d been a high school math teacher in Connecticut but quit abruptly, moved to the West Texas desert and started going by Buzz.

'Why Buzz?' I asked

"Well, actually I named myself Buzz a long time ago but only put it out in the universe recently"

"That’s fantastic"

"Today actually. I think I just got the courage today."

"No shit. Why today you think?"

"No clue" 

"Really? You moved across the country- maybe that has something to do with it. Re-birthing yourself. Starting over-"

"I dunno Molly, some days are totally new worlds for no reason at all. Even if everything looks the same…"

Buzz and I went to the only coffee shop in town which is inside the only laundromat in town.

We talked and talked and gave quarters to folks who were short and laughed and ate and talked and talked

Buzz reminded me of my father, who used to call me Chewie, and I thought for a split second about starting to go by Chewie-

But who was I to steal Buzz’s life changing non-special day?

Maybe I’ll wake up one morning and be Chewie- because I simply can’t not be Chewie any longer.

That morning I’ll think of Buzz out in Marfa- or wherever- and maybe he’ll think of me- or not- and the world will be different somehow-

Without anything having changed at all.