Posted in Almost Dorothy

The Midnight City


I’m not gonna write a year in review because no one cares what kind of year I’ve had. It began like this and ended like that. That’s it. I didn’t get pregnant. People were born. People died. Ma drank this. I smoked that. I don’t even care about New Year resolutions or brushing teeth.  In fact, I believe in breaking resolutions that bind one to unattainable goals. Goals that are overrated like goalies are overrated. I don’t even believe in teeth or years.

I believe in the continuity of experience, but I don’t believe in time. I believe in butterflies, but I don’t believe in ghosts. I believe in the paranormal, but I don’t believe in religion. I believe in Santa Claus, but I don’t believe in elves.  I believe in looking back, but I don’t believe in regret. I believe ma and I will be young forever, but I don’t believe we are permanent fixtures of some man’s wild imagination.

Each day is a step toward the Midnight City. Each dream is a city of dreams. We are who we are, ma says. Stuck in stone warring in our stupid boots all afternoon. 

When I finish this post, I will go outside with ma. We will jump into our imaginary swimming pool. Backstroke. Butterfly. The doggie paddle. Ma will inevitably splash water into my eyes and I will wipe my eyes. Ma will splash water again into my eyes and I will cry from the sting of chlorine as Katy Perry sings, let’s go all the way tonightWe’ll be forever young, ma will say, you’ll see. And I will see her believe in Katy Perry. Believe in ghosts.

I won’t dare tell ma the truth. That I don’t believe in forever. That I only believe in now, the ever-present, not what’s next or to come in the ever after.

 Life, ma will say, is all we got to live for. I know, I will tell her as I look into her bloodshot eyes amazed by her brilliance. Then I will dunk her fat head into the deep end of the pool.

Happy New Year, I will tell her, but she can’t hear shit underwater.

Author:

I'm not real, but I'm a writer.

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