junk

 you covered me in junk

and said it was a gift

the junk so very heavy

I felt my insides shift

junk was piled so high on me

to move would make it shake

so I lied and closed my eyes

and felt my own heart break

couldn't even see the junk

since I was underneath it

but still you kept on shoveling

in junky little pieces

I asked for you to stop

in fact I started screaming

because I felt the junk collapse

guess you were off or dreaming

of what I'll probably never know

I hoped for a solution

but you had no plan to save me

just your own delusion

I whispered from the bottom

won't you ever pull me out?

but of course you didn't hear me--

too much junk was in my mouth

you said it was for me

but I don't think that's true

because I never asked for junk--

the junk was all for you

you covered me in junk

then you said it was a gift

you covered me in junk

what an awful, rotten grift

Skeletons

Been going through family photos, all the family photos, because my mom asked me to a year ago. They've been in the corner of the living room, behind the couch. A stupid coffee table. Now I'm moving, so I started scanning last week. I finished a couple days ago. So here. They're all digital so everyone can have them. But after staring at dozens of shots of the same baby in the same outfit and hundreds of now divorced newlyweds and many grainy shots of cars or strangers, I think I'd be good with a handful. And seeing one's whole life and one's family's whole life in snaps and snaps, back bent as I hunched over, something roared up inside of me. It claws. I shut the rubber tubs. I can't wait until they are gone.

Two weeks ago while I was visiting my dad I hunted for my old Gameboy. Found it under my twin bed, still working. I popped in the one game I never beat, Zelda (barely touched it, was too hard for ten year old me). I've been playing about an hour a day since. Usually after I run an errand or I am tired of talking to people. I have half the instruments for the Wind Fish. Today I got to the Catfish Dungeon and I couldn't for the life of me kill this jumping skeleton. I finally caved and read the cheat for it online. I needed to use bombs, not just my sword. Once I beat it, it ran away. I knew I'd meet it again, later, probably stronger and faster. Then I did, but it was the exact same. Just had to do it twice.

In my initial Nintendo search I was reminded of just how much stuff I had amassed at Dad's. Around 20 boxes in the basement. Some full of camp stuff, others Chicago debris, personal junk, clothes out of style, and, a few heaps of college stuff, last touched on my graduation day. Books on books about theatre. I had thought I'd keep them for when I got a bigger place with more shelf space, but I hope I never have more shelf space, not for what I can forget about for years. I sweat through my middle school basketball shirt and ripped my fading blue shorts on a tack. A van-load of very full, very big bins to Goodwill. I emptied them carefully into a cart while the employee upturned and dumped. There's something that hurts seeing it go. But it hurts to more, a dull distant ache, to know it was all there, under the front door, under the earth. Four left. Two of letters and photos. I need more than a day to sort those. And two of old t-shirts in case one day I want to make a quilt.

Junk

Bradley, Berger, and Blanche in my room last Q
So many possessions. I always think back to my sister leaving college and needing two van-loads to haul her crap out of the dorms and say, "Alice, you're sittin' pretty on your couple of tubs." But, when I look around, I still have so much. I think I don't, but I do. I really do.

I probably don't need most of it, but I like having all of it. Everything is important and useful in its own way, right?

Here's a list of things other people might not find absolutely crucial to life, but I do:
(all within my view from where I am standing at the edge of my bed)

-My speech and debate trophy bowl from Nationals 2005. I hold my bobby pins in it, and bobby pins are crucial to control my girl mullet.
-A sleeping mask. I've had it since 5th grade, and it allows me to be the best roommate ever. Muff can leave the lights on all night for all I care. It's darkness to me.
-A Japanese kerchief on my dresser. When I'm tired and need to plop my laptop there, the bottom doesn't get scratched up thanks to the cloth.
-Alice in Wonderland mug. As I wake up or as I'm falling asleep, many important ideas flood my brain, and I need to write them down. My eyes are often blurry, so I need to be able to count on grabbing at the same mug full of pens.
-Bottle of Purell. Playtime with Blanche does not always follow a trip to the bathroom sinks.

We've all got our junk, and my junk is you.