Love Always

Apparently, I laugh like you
and you work too hard. I wish
you would retire to mystery novels
in the patio sun
and aromas of broccoli casserole and
mint chocolate chip dessert.

You told me to consider
popping birth control pills
before college
and scratched my back
before bedtime.

Poolside, you watched me in the water,
never daring to enter the mermaids' domain
but a phone call away when
essays needed red pen
stains.

You told me to consider
marrying a doctor or the like.
Why did I cry in the seventh grade
when M-- H-- insulted Democrats, as if
he spat directly in the face of you,
You
you consummate hostess,
       consummate ear,
       consummate seeker.

Sometimes, I think of you
as in your wedding photo,
that album tucked away in a drawer.
An English major, sociology minor
and her mane of autumn hair,
the half-smile
hiding and bestowing
so much.

Your sociology major, English minor,
autumn-haired
daughter
finds she laughs and smiles
much the same.
Apparently.

Airport Inspiration?

I always tell people that I hate airports. They give me a headache. And everyone is breathing the same air and eating far too much "food" from McDonalds and I always end up running over the toes of some innocent passerby with my overstuffed suitcase. Furthermore, for some inexplicable reason, my stomach always ties itself into knots at those security check points, as if somehow I'll be mistaken for one of the many, many female, college-age, redheaded criminals roaming airports across the country and be hauled away in handcuffs, shamefaced, screaming that they've got the wrong girl. However, I may have to eat my words. Airports are quickly evolving into wells of inspiration for my various scribblings. Here's a taste of what filled my notebook's pages minutes before take-off.

dot dot dot
we worried for You're s.a.n.i.t.y.
when Michael Bublé and Metallica
wore matching sailor suits. we warned You.
failed interventions toed the line
between crafted clichés and comprehensible,
misguided attempts to paste bits and pieces
of the Pyramids back together.
You know they were stolen, right?
the pharaohs were pissed — drunk on
the melodies of doorbells and
bits and pieces of clichés crafted at a Metallica concert.
brave the mosh pit.
You may catch a glimpse of
sarcophagi gleaming in torchlight.
don't lift the lid, for the love of
g.o.d.!
those sailor suits have been preserved for centuries.
"Do Not Disturb."
the doorbell
won't work now,
not now that Michael Bublé's bubble burst.
can You blame us for screaming into
microphones? maybe the bits and pieces of clichés You swept
into neat little piles after footfalls die down
torch-lit corridors will
shake the Pyramids.
at the very least, ring a doorbell.

"d.o. n.o.t. d.i.s.t.u.r.b."

Miss
It is Christmas time and she says my name
because she has to. It is part of her job.
Move the line along, address each passenger
by first name.
All that training
just to utter a name. Simple.
Her turtleneck is tan,
her glasses eat her face.
My name,
exotic,
lush,
on her lips. Half-joking.
I suppose half-joking simplicity is necessary after thousands of days
in the Mecca of transitions,
scanning tickets to destinations not her own.
What is there to say but,
"Safe flight, Miss Miranda"?
The moment of contact. The moment of
names.
All that training
for a moment shared through thick-rimmed glasses
at Christmas time.

That Jitterbug Jive We Do
Waiting for Alaskan wings after
the strangest of mid-morning goodbyes,
the sort that loop a noose around throats
and, snakelike, squeeze the syllables until
they trickle through half-parted lips,
all nonchalance and fingers too afraid
to reach, to trace the lines of faces
and possibilities.
It's silly, playing hard-to-get.
They both know it. But
are they playing the game?

Or are they just hard to get?
 

We Live Together

Lights up on a living room in disarray. Board games, textbooks, dishes, boxes of Christmas decorations, and various snack foods are scattered on coffee tables and the floor. LIZZIE and SAM, both on their laptops, sit on the couch. MOLLY sits on the floor, strumming a guitar softly.

LIZZIE

                                    (offhandedly)

Would you break up with Nate if he chopped off your dog’s head on purpose?

                                                MOLLY

                                    (equally offhandedly)

Probably not.

                                    (pause)

                                                LIZZIE

Would you break up with Nate if he had shoelaces for hair?

                                                MOLLY

Probably.

                                                SAM

Priorities.

                                                LIZZIE

My organic chem professor is the devil.

                                                SAM

Also, Molly, you were talking in your sleep again last night. I couldn’t tell if you were laughing or moaning.

                                                MOLLY

Weird. And that’s a pretty serious accusation, Liz.

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (closing laptop)

Screw this crap. Boggle?

                                                MOLLY

As per usual.

                                                SAM

I’m going grocery shopping within the next 7-9 minutes.

MOLLY

                                    (setting up to play Boggle)

Will you buy more milk?

                                                SAM

Yes. No. I won’t be back until late tonight and I don’t want it to spoil in the car.

                                                LIZZIE

Wow, Sam. So selfish.

                                                SAM

As per usual.

AMELIA enters.

                                                LIZZIE

Speak of the devil. Aside from Professor Matthews.

                                                AMELIA

                                    (smiling, bashful)

Ok, so…

                                                MOLLY

Let us guess the Latin lover of the week.

                                                LIZZIE

Juan!

                                                MOLLY

Alejandro!

                                                LIZZIE

Raul!

                                                MOLLY

Javier!

                                                AMELIA

Marco, actually.

                                                MOLLY

My next guess.

                                                LIZZIE

Is he the one who won’t shut up about his pet chinchilla or the one with the profile picture featuring various cans of beer and scantily clad co-eds?

                                                AMELIA

Neither. He’s Roberto’s roommate. He just walked up to me after class and we started talking about how cold it is and how much we both like doing laundry, and then he asked if I wanted to get “delicious hot beverages” sometime. He speaks English pretty well.

                                                SAM

Phewf. That’s a relief.

                       

                                                LIZZIE

Step up from chinchilla boy.

                                                AMELIA

Then he sort of followed me home.

                                                SAM, MOLLY, LIZZIE

WHAT?

                                                AMELIA

I know he lives in one of the apartments down Caroline Avenue but he said he was going this way and followed me all the way to the front door.

                                                SAM

What an appealing array of suitors you have, Amelia Harrison.

KATE enters from another room in the apartment reading a book.

                                                MOLLY

So when will these “delicious hot beverages” be consumed, pray tell? Provided he doesn’t climb through the window tonight and axe you in your sleep.

                                                KATE

Who’s murdering Amelia?

                       

                                                LIZZIE

One guess.

                                                KATE

Julio?

                                                SAM

So close.

                                                AMELIA

Tomorrow afternoon. But here’s the thing. Molly, you know the tall percussionist in jazz band?

                                                MOLLY

Adam?

                                                AMELIA

He’s caught my fancy lately.

                                                SAM

He does acid.

                                                LIZZIE

Ha!

                                                AMELIA

Never mind, then.

                                                MOLLY

That was last year. You never know. People change.

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (to Amelia)

If you date a boy who does acid, I’ll punch you in the face.

                                                AMELIA

I suppose Marco’s back in the number one slot.

                                                SAM

Ah, young love.

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (excited)

Let’s watch “The Sound of Music” tonight.

                                                SAM

 I refuse.

                                                LIZZIE

Oh right. I forgot about your soulless vendetta against all fun ever.

                                                SAM

I have nothing against fun. I have everything against three hours of “Do, a deer, a female deer.”

                                                KATE

                                    (singing)

“Ray, a drop of golden sun. 

MOLLY

                                    (singing)

“Me, a name I call myself.”

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (singing)

“Fa, a long, long way to run.”

                                                SAM

This is the opposite of what I wanted to happen.

                                                KATE, MOLLY, LIZZIE, AMELIA

                                    (all singing in SAM’s face)

“Sol, a needle pulling thread. La, a note to follow so. Ti, a drink with jam and bread. That will bring us back to do, do, do, do.”

                                                SAM

We just experienced all “The Sound of Music” magic we need. No call to watch the movie.

                                                KATE, MOLLY, LIZZIE, AMELIA

                                    (continue to hum the song softly, chuckling)

                                                SAM

                                    (closing laptop and gathering her things)

On second thought, pop that sucker in. I’m off to buy a bunch of food that will most likely give me heart disease in the distant future.

                                                AMELIA

Will you buy more milk?

                                                SAM

I’m currently experiencing some sort of déjà vu-esque sensation…

                                                MOLLY

I’ll get milk tomorrow.

                                                SAM

Be back late.

                                                LIZZIE

Wait! 30-second roommate dance party before you go!

(pause, girls look at each other, then in almost perfect unison, break into a rendition of “Livin’ on a Prayer,” dancing around the room)

                                                SAM

Got to go. Bye, all.

                                                AMELIA

All this groovin’ is making me hungry.

AMELIA exits toward the kitchen.

                                                KATE

So I just finished half of my paper—

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (singing)

“Oh, we’re half-way there!”

                                                KATE

—on how children’s advertisements brainwash our youth and serve as the champagne bottle on the bow of the ship sailing into the wretched depths of consumerist culture.

                                                MOLLY

Attacking the nostalgia of our childhoods again, eh, Kate?

                                                LIZZIE

It doesn’t get much better than the 90s.

                                                MOLLY

 “Leggo my eggo!”

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (singing)

“Hungry, hungry hippos!”

                                                MOLLY

                                    (singing)

“Sock-Em Boppers! Sock-Em Boppers!”

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (singing)

“It’s more fun than a pillow fight!”

                                                MOLLY, LIZZIE

                                    (singing)

“Blow ‘em up, put your hand inside! Get ready to have the time of your life!”

                                                KATE

I never noticed how inappropriate that jingle is.

AMELIA’s cell phone rings.

                                                MOLLY

Amelia, someone’s calling you.

                                                LIZZIE

Antonio!

                                                MOLLY

Jorge!

                                                LIZZIE

Miguel!

                                   

AMELIA  jogs in, looking silly and carrying a floppy piece of sandwich meat.

                                                AMELIA

                                    (monotone voice, jokingly panicked)

Ahhhh! Where’s my phone?

                                                KATE

What kind of meat is that?

                                                AMELIA

I don’t know. It came in a variety pack. (Finds phone but missed the call already) Oh well.

AMELIA exits.

                                                LIZZIE

Molly, come here.

                                                MOLLY

That’s sufficiently sinister.

                                                LIZZIE

Just do it.

                                                KATE

Ugh. If you mention any more ad slogans, my brain might explode.

MOLLY crosses to LIZZIE who begins drawing something on her leg with a pen.

                                                MOLLY

We need to decorate soon.

                                                KATE

I can steal some more Christmas-y paraphernalia from my parent’s house.

                                                MOLLY

Just a little spruce.

                                                LIZZIE

Literally.

                                                KATE

Ha. Ha.

                                                MOLLY

We could cut some paper snowflakes, too. Did you ever do that when you were a kid?

                                                KATE

I think everyone did that when they were a kid, dear.

AMELIA enters with a sandwich on a plate, plops down on couch.

                                                MOLLY

                                    (nostalgic)

Traditions are traditions for a reason, Kate. Something about snow. It just isn’t Christmas without snow.

                                                LIZZIE

Especially large representations of snow made of paper.

                                                MOLLY

Are you done yet?

                                                LIZZIE

Just about.

                                                AMELIA

I’m too exhausted to eat this sandwich. (Slumps down and closes her eyes)

                                               

                                                KATE

                                    (whining)

Do I have to go to work?

                                                LIZZIE

Depends on how much you like having money in your pocket.

                                                KATE

I do like that…

                                                MOLLY

Then yes. You should probs go to work.

                                                KATE

Probs?

                                                MOLLY

I like to abbrev whenev pos.

                                                KATE

You disgust me.

                                                MOLLY

Whatevs, bff.

KATE gathers her things and puts on her coat.

                                                LIZZIE

Finished.

                                                MOLLY

                                    (reading LIZZIE’s inscription)

You would write that on my leg.

                                                KATE

What does it say?

                                                MOLLY

“Put your hand inside, get ready to have the time of your life,” with an arrow pointing directly toward my vagina.

                                                LIZZIE

You’re welcome.

                                                KATE

Alright, I’m off. Enjoy not working, everyone.

                                                MOLLY

Wait! 30-second roommate dance party before you go!

                                                KATE

I’m currently experiencing some sort of déjà-vu-esque sensation.

(another pause, the girls look at each other, then break into a somewhat less perfectly unison rendition of “Dancing Queen,” giggling and dancing)

            LIZZIE

(to KATE)

Go to work! Make money!

                                                KATE

Will do. See you later.

KATE exits.

LIZZIE jumps on AMELIA who is still trying to sleep, sprawls out across her.

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (whispering)

Amelia. Are you sleeping?

                                                AMELIA

                                    (groggily)

Yes.

                                                MOLLY

 We could tape the snowflakes to the windows.

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (still whispering)

Are you sleeping now?

                                                AMELIA

Yes.

                                                MOLLY

And maybe some twinkle lights around the doorframes.

                                                AMELIA

You’re crushing the organs I use to breathe, Lizzie.

                                                LIZZIE

                                    (climbing off AMELIA)

Breathing isn’t necessary.

AMELIA reaches for her sandwich.

                                                MOLLY

We should watch a Christmas movie tonight, instead!

                                                LIZZIE

Someone has a hefty dose of holiday cheer.

                                                AMELIA

Guess who called me earlier?

                                                LIZZIE

Fernando!

                                                MOLLY

Enrique!

                                                AMELIA

Chinchilla boy.

                                                LIZZIE

Should have known.

                                                MOLLY

Don’t you have a date with that what’s-his-face cheeseball this weekend?

                                                AMELIA

Technically.

                                                LIZZIE

One time, my brother ate an entire block of cheddar cheese and then diarrhea-ed all night long.

                                                MOLLY

                                    (singing)

“All night long!”

                                                AMELIA

Lizzie, I’m eating.

                                                LIZZIE

And this other time, he and his friends competed to see who could eat the most White Castle sliders in one sitting and when he came home, he stank up our whole house with his putrid farts.

                                                AMELIA

                                    (ignoring LIZZIE)

Ahhhh, I’m so stressed! I have so much to do and no motivation to do it.

                                                LIZZIE

I’m planning on going to the library to study for my organic chem exam. Want to tag along?

                                                AMELIA

If you promise not to talk about your brother’s putrid diarrhea.

                                                LIZZIE

Cross my heart.

                                                AMELIA

Now?

                                                LIZZIE

You got it.

LIZZIE and AMELIA gather their things and coats, almost out the door.

                                                MOLLY

Wait! 30-second roommate dance party before you go!

(pause, the girls look at each other, then break into a perfect rendition of “Don’t Stop Believin’” in 3-part harmony, dancing around the room)

                                                LIZZIE

What would we do without overplayed, classic, karaoke tunes and our bad dance moves?

                                                AMELIA

Something productive?

                                                MOLLY

Productivity is overrated.

                                                LIZZIE

Be back later, Molly.

                                                AMELIA

Bye, friend.

                                                MOLLY

Have fun, ladies.

LIZZIE and AMELIA exit.

                                    (pause)

The room feels strange and empty. MOLLY looks around. She rummages through the Christmas decorations, picks up AMELIA’s plate and half-eaten sandwich, still looking around, somewhat sad and thoughtful now.

                                                MOLLY

Well.

MOLLY exits, humming “Don’t Stop Believin.’”

Lights down.

Midnight Snack

Fiddlededee days devour the sparks of inspired nights.
Kindling the middle of winter afternoons, end too soon.
Here
and
Now.
Sometimes, it is good.
Ladies linger in the shower, shave their legs but blood is thick.
Paying for the middle of winter afternoons, end too soon.
There
and
How.
Sometimes, it needs enormity.
Yes, yet
Sometimes, it takes too long.
Buts
or
Ands?
Libraries of looks in lieu of winter afternoons, refuse to end too soon.
Libraries of discontent in dirty diaries, dirty living rooms.
Sometimes, it is something.
Whats
or
When's the clean part start?
Sometimes atoms seem enormous as winter afternoons refusing to end too soon.
Showers of sparks scratch bloody demarcations into rickety winter bones.

Sometimes, it is enormously good.