Randomizer

When I’m feeling like a crass, trashtalking set of wind-up plastic teeth with an overbite and bad breath, I disappear in the lyrical music of words. When I’m loud in the quiet room and they make more noise in the process of kicking me out, it’s a beautiful contrast. Like golf socks on a water polo player. Like a skateboarder in swim fins.

Fudge in the fridge turns into bricks. Fall through the trees, make lots of sticks. Extremely deep snow should be termed “quicksnow”. It’s not warmer when it’s thick on the ground and we call it a “blanket of snow”. We call sand on the ground a dune. We call the middle of the day noon. A miniature stainless steel shovel? It’s a spoon. That orbiting nightlight is the moon. Pomposity in the naughty haughty, makes her too proud to be a hotty. Too vain for the dirty birdy to dance, makes him overflow with arrogance.

The rising of the ocean, I fear, is higher for every child’s tear, shed when an older sibling broke a bike, took the toy, took a hike. He needs a lesson, he needs to learn, that being bigger doesn’t mean it’s his turn. A dog in a hot car. A stolen lunch ticket. Two times around the carousel is too far, and the best summer drink is from the spigot. The Spanish inquisition was killed by the Spanish guitar. No one cared for torture when there was music. Until Gitmo. Cough, cough, well just never mind then.

On a blender binge, fateful for the orange, acid makes the back teeth cringe, drank it all and she called me ‘stinge’. Parking lot. Parking spot. Parking space. Parking place. The day got worse when I met up with Frank and Biff. They stole all the fun ‘cause they were stodgy and stiff. And those were only their first names. The theft grew, but no one knew, what to do, with the spoils. We weren’t into the pirate’s art, but on the weekends we sure looked the part. There were rings in things and on things and under things. Honey golden swirls. Dangling gems and treasure chests. Hidden troves under circling seagulls. Crossed bones beneath bleached skulls. Crossed eyes to crottles. Broken glass bottles. Bangles, spangles, and brawls.

Want more fun with your fireworks, honey? When you hear them go off, shout out, “Money!” If what you wanted for your birthday was what you got, some people wouldn’t get a lot—but their friends would.