Wednesday, March 18, 2009

the first time i died, it was horrible.
i didn't even look cute.
i hadn't showered in days,
my hair was a greasy mop upon my head,
bruises and bloody cuts spotted my legs,
straggley hairs formed knots in my pits,
and my breath reaked of a sleazy sailor.

my fatality was an empty one.

i was turning on the water to take a shower,
or maybe i going to take a warm bubble bath......there are some facts of my parting
that still throw me for a loop.

silly me, i forgot the curling iron was on.
(i was going through a phase of setting my hair in very tight curls;
maybe i was trying to immulate my grandmother, she always
looked liked a classy muriel.)
clumsy me, my tiny ankle got wrapped in the cord.
unstable me, i splashed in the running water.

tiny currents of electricity danced through my body as i was taken over by
the waves of an indoor sea.
it hurt so bad.
i heard the doctors say i broke my back.
my ears and my nose and my mouth were running with blood.

i saw the position, color and status of my death:
crooked, naked, green, bloody and lifeless.

i could have gone in such a fashionable way.

this is how i picture my next death: lipstick, a purple dress, black high heels, a handsome man on my shoulder, and a screwdriver resting on a coaster next to me.
shaved pits, no bruises, no cuts, clean hair, and the breath of a lady.
i'm attending a fancy, late twenty-something party with my lover,
and i choke on a dick...NO, not a dick, not a dick.
and i overdose on some coke...NO, not some coke, not some coke.
and i slit my wrists when i walk in on my lover fucking the early twenty-something waitress...NO, no fucking, no slitting wrists.

i can't plan my next departure.
that's like planning my next birth, which is an entirely different story.


  1. do you promise me you wont stop doing this? damn, i do take it as a personal present. michelle you are a punnet of strawberries, and each that gets eaten will bloody-red-and-sweet stain a white summer dress. but then you can simply bend down, get your knees dirty in the dirt and pick another one fresh from the strawberry bush. when screwdrivers start coming to you in real glass glasses on coasters and your feet's heels are adorned with high heels, let me know and we'll give that sort of life a go together.

  2. jesus christ do i love you! even your little comments are well-written wonders just for me!
    me? a personal present giver? sure! i'll keep treating you with treaty treats. just be sure to keep giving me the dose of alice's creativity that i so dearly need. i adore the way you write and i get very excited when i see something new to feed my head with!
    lurve you.