there are all these pictures that i didnt take but they were given to me to keep, regardless. it was when we were divvying up the things. You don't want to say no, because they are photographs &they are beautiful. but at the same time you realize you have absolutely no right.
one day when chad and I were walking in to town, trying to spend the last of our pounds- we'd just left jessie at boots, because she herself could not decide how to leave the drugstore without taking a sample of each and every brand of make-up that was available in the united states. i guess we were all like that in a way, chad bought a bottle of absynthe, nick glued himself in the ground &I asked for all the diet pills the fda would never approve. We started to walk back and stopped at this shop next to this tea house i'd never been to &I started picking up little trinckets that I was sure I'd die without. Some stickers, a coffee mug and then I saw all these boxes- you know, you couldnt tell what was in them without opening them and instead of letting it go I sat there prying the paper apart. "jewelery boxes," chad decided. I picked one out because I thought it was wonderful- a little girl and painted hearts and she's holding this robot. it was twelve pounds, i forked it over &we walked back. meeting nick and jessie, it started to rain. everyone changed for "closing night dinner" and I went back up to my room. To get to the house I had to cross past all the bicycle racks &walk through gravel. I have this thing for gravel walks- they really get me going, get me thinking too fast, writing in my head. I went up to the room and opened the box. I wanted to put my jewelery in it. And it started to play music, you know, it was a real music box. Which I had never had- not even when I was a little girl. So I sat there and let the song play all the way through, put my rings into it- off of my fingers &everything, and I dressed for closing dinner.
Standing there, disrobed in a house that wasnt mine where many twenty-one year old girls and boys had slept with their heads over flowing with memories of other people they had kissed on this bed, with their skin in this mirror- and these words on my mouth. I guess it was fair that I kept the pictures, even though they were not mine to keep.
are beautiful. but at the same time you realize you have absolutely no right.
one day when chad and I were walking in to town, trying to spend the last of our pounds- we'd just left jessie at boots, because she herself could not decide how to leave the drugstore without taking a sample of each and every brand of make-up that was available in the united states. i guess we were all like that in a way, chad bought a bottle of absynthe, nick glued himself in the ground &I asked for all the diet pills the fda would never approve. We started to walk back and stopped at this shop next to this tea house i'd never been to &I started picking up little trinckets that I was sure I'd die without. Some stickers, a coffee mug and then I saw all these boxes- you know, you couldnt tell what was in them without opening them and instead of letting it go I sat there prying the paper apart. "jewelery boxes," chad decided. I picked one out because I thought it was wonderful- a little girl and painted hearts and she's holding this robot. it was twelve pounds, i forked it over &we walked back. meeting nick and jessie, it started to rain. everyone changed for "closing night dinner" and I went back up to my room. To get to the house I had to cross past all the bicycle racks &walk through gravel. I have this thing for gravel walks- they really get me going, get me thinking too fast, writing in my head. I went up to the room and opened the box. I wanted to put my jewelery in it. And it started to play music, you know, it was a real music box. Which I had never had- not even when I was a little girl. So I sat there and let the song play all the way through, put my rings into it- off of my fingers &everything, and I dressed for closing dinner.
Standing there, disrobed in a house that wasnt mine where many twenty-one year old girls and boys had slept with their heads over flowing with memories of other people they had kissed on this bed, with their skin in this mirror- and these words on my mouth. I guess it was fair that I kept the pictures, even though they were not mine to keep.
