i can be my own publisher

I remember I used to get secretly insulted when I would submit something to the literary magazine at my high school and it wouldn't get published. I think they played favorites, picking the same people's writing over and over again. But that's okay, because I can publish myself whenever I want now on this blog. WSUP.

I read this at a Speakeasy thing at the Kelly Writer's House way back last semester, when I didn't think I would get so sucked into GCC/DP. Ha. It makes me miss writing creative stuff.

--

Weather or not to speak:

Your eyes get really small when you laugh

and no one would guess that you, of all people, would have an awkward laugh.

You do.

and it's funny.

because I have an awkward laugh too.

And it gets the worst when I talk about the weather

because it's funny that the weather is all I can talk about.

Did you know that the high is seventy-six tomorrow?

It's raining on Thursday. Curse Thursday rains.

It always rains on Thursdays because it's like God knows that

that's when I can see you

packing up your life in the car and

temporarily sitting in the passenger seat,

looking out towards the dimly-lit parking lot

thinking about what I can only guess to be anyone

but me.

And you walk in this certain way like you know where you're going

but every person on the same path is an act of chance

Your eyes light up for a fleeting moment and I can't forget

how immensely surprised you look.

You don't scare me;

I wouldn't give you that satisfaction.

but the ripple in your face makes me think that

I

scare you.

So I continue to talk about the weather

and inform you that there will be an unexpected chill tomorrow

so God can prepare for the next Thursday shower

when I'll pass by with my umbrella and offer a smile

and you'll look surprised, as usual

and maybe I'll slip and fall into a puddle with your name

and you'll laugh awkwardly as you step out of the car

and offer me a hand

and all I will be able to say is:

Horrible weather we're having today.

(C) 2008. Sarah R.

You have no right to reproduce and/or distribute this work without my permission, fool.