pink in the paws

summer turned to fall 

barefoot at the gas station

pink in the paw

taking fast food orders

with conjured elation

they found a twenty dollar bill 

in the road engine stalling 

spilled coffee all over the self 

good heavens so 

funny it sad so sad

it funny   #katyamills

life before cars

i remember you years back. funny and loud
silence didn’t stand a chance

they expanded the freeway

now i cannot hear the birds
like they planned it

ten lanes now
the whole family out

bowling. an icy can of orange and two

tone shoes. big shiny ball ona slow roll

i got you in my head again. when you left

it was life before cars

#katyamills

journal

Journal # 10.26.2016

She fainted just right to get the proper attention from all the boys. One of the boys really wanted to take care of someone like that, a girl who knew how to position herself and lose consciousness just right, so she wouldn’t need medical attention just a boy like him to pick her up and carry her to a room to revive her in and hold her hand and give her a glass of cool water and talk to her sweetly. She practiced it and became skillful. The only hard part was figuring out how to really lose the consciousness, because this was something she could not pull off faking. She found she could take a really abstract concept and expand upon it in a way that caused her such mental anguish her body would tremble and cold sweat and if she simply refused to breathe for a moment she could reach dizzy level and then if she stared at the sun or a bright light or something and got ink spots in her eyes then she could put her arm over her face and bend forward and fall off like that. One of those silly abstract thoughts was about the messiness of life and shot off something like this… we were basically living things traveling through time and space, and interacting with what or whomever came our way, anything within reach would get the most attention and we thought about this with disapproval because this was awful, i mean, leaving people and places you care about behind and maybe trying to stay connected somehow through letters or phone wires or nonlocal means of astral projections and yet still sustaining the moment the business of daily life what with all those loves waiting wondering hurting cause they miss you so much and you dissed them somehow… HOW AWFUL!

My funny bone is not funny anymore. It hurts. When i strike it. These incidents, once funny-by-accident, are now just plain accidents.

My funny bone is an accident waiting to happen. I got it insured through the my friend, the organ grinder, over at pick-and-pull boneyard, at the corner of elbow and knee streets.

If i ruled the world

No one would be expected to smile or greet you, though they could if they wanted.

No dogs just cats.
Yes to miniature tigers and teradactyls.

You work at what you choose, and you may sleep when done working and work when done sleeping.

No more cell phones just walkie talkies. No mayonnaise. No social media, in fact, advertising and marketing are banned and punishable by tickle torture.

No more pavement and the animals live freely among us. No sentient being owns any other living thing.

You can still own property.
No currency just barter.

You can still fight wars if you want, but no draft and don’t involve anyone whose peaceable-like. Punishable by hippie farm segregation.

Sorry but no more cars or planes. Let the birds do the flying and everyone gets a bicycle on their 5th birthday. And a bell.

You can live in a house but you won’t need one. You can fall in love but that’s your business.

No weddings, and funerals are called commencements, and celebrated madly.

Only assholes and bitches get disappeared. This includes wannabe dictators, sociopaths, and tattoo artists who decide to deliberately ignore your design and permanently mark you up with their sad art.

Creative types get to create whatever they like wherever they wish, so long as its divinely inspired and not hurtful, just helpful.

If you like my world, please follow my website @ katyamills.com and buy my books on Amazon.

And feel free to write me in for mayor of Toronto, to replace the crackhead whose got the malignancy in his belly. May he get well soon.