forcing it
the beach is studded with desperate little fists, fingers crunching around offers of sand. as soon as you accept, the cupped palms shake empty. an underwater scream. gather seventeen of your most important moments and iron them until the edges gleam. present to a roomful of bored onlookers. check the fridge for updates, incessantly. slur this is what i can do, never sure whether you’re lying or not. pose in a way that’s hard on the back; squeeze into a turtleneck color that curdles. offer this, and watch everybody recoil. feel it in the walls; the trees tilting back in disgust. don’t waver. make sure you burst into tears and laugh inappropriately. expose your sleazy little masterpieces and absolutely beg to create more. when the door creaks closed, squeeze in, breathless. watch the hinges, or don’t.
