to the hitchhiker who told me I shouldn’t pick up strangers
First of all, it was the polar vortex and you looked half-dead hunched there on the shoulder like an awkward walrus. You couldn’t even get your thumb out of your pocket. Secondly, you may feel large in your coat and scarf but how tiny you are from a distance, slow-moving and utterly unthreatening—certainly more vulnerable than I with two tons beneath me and the span of the steering wheel in my hands.
upstairs with Ann Zandi (last supper)
Spring cleaning always makes me tell this story, which takes place during the cold months and isn’t a story at all. It’s a decorated room, nothing more. The walls are stage-curtain red, lit by a gold-fringed lampshade and cable TV. Onscreen, iCarly and pals are having a hot dog eating contest. Someone has cheated at the contest but will shortly see the error of their ways. A joint lies ready on the coffee table, a crisp modern line against a plate of lumpy homemade mocha cupcakes. The window opens and the last few items are placed: lighter, decorative laugh track, and eventually, in the spirit of minimalism, a frosting bowl and two spoons licked clean.
late afternoon lecture
The kid in the fourth row is asleep. I say asleep rather than sleeping to imply a sort of cozy, lost agency; sleep is something that happened to him. He positioned his elbow to prop chin in hand, and then sipped at sleep in tiny drips until he was effectively drowned.
It’s not his fault. The room is quiet, just papers shuffling and my monologue about signal phrases. People pay for this kind of peace, of which he is an integral part, our pet spaniel curled at the hearth.
Somewhere in the world, this young man’s doppleganger is dressed for war, mindful of predators. Here, our safety is a marvel; we can leave our bodies and expect to find them intact when we return. He twitches; my warning about proper in-text citations is a sudden tug at his ankle, but not enough to bring him back.
Deena Lilygren lives in Louisville, Kentucky, where she is an Associate Professor of English. You can find her work in LEO Weekly, Queer Kentucky, Huffington Post, 94 Creations, and Okay, Donkey.