remix

dominoes. heaps of clothes -i

We got pushed and shoved until we formed into something bigger than the pushes and shoves, something resilient and not without a heart for a fight. Outcasts on the margins and nowhere else we wanted to be. You could see it in our eyes, night after night. One could tell that’s how we hooked up, you and me

all i got this morning is you
all you got is me
and two battle ax lounge ax young
blood kittens

suffer some more and you will
have something

we are daft
first draft
we are punk

tough shit if anyone thinks they know
how we will work out

peanut butter jelly
and skunk

me and you of all the meanings
could be derived. like the mountains
a long long time ago

even when it was now
me and you got drive.
and never will be
again

i kinda wish sometimes
we were still
friends

little belly

the light
long left
the sky

strange music on the radio
this room she is soft now
she is softness
she is soft

it’s been years feels like years
since i fell since i fell
since i fell

down on my bare feet
light in my head in the kitchen
for the coffee for my meds

first i heat some oats for my soft
my little for my soft some oats for my soft
my little belly

down on my down on my
down on my luck maybe
so maybe so

there’s a kitten
there’s a cell phone keeping warm
beneath my little circle of a warm a little
lovely

where’s my other lovely?
the orange one

i have to hold onto something
i have to hold on for my chance to
come my chance to come

waiting. walking through the sunset of a memory
the orange one where oh where are you?

feels like years since i awoke
it’s been months since i got myself up
on my own

across the way i see
a single flower in a bowl in a window
a still life on a window sill
life it looks peaceful

then fire trucks sudden sound their way
a fire in the city. you can really hear
the engines when you open your door the engines roar

I get a change of clothes
fold them over my arm
carry them to the shower

i gotta go to work
no matter what

I am thinking of you
and how i loved you
and how you betrayed me

too dam bad
oh well. i gotta go to work
no matter what you do you did
me wrong

The water cool then hot the steam
I pull the elastic out my hair you called me plastic
you don’t care. too dam bad oh well
i got work to do and i give a dam
i really do i really cared about you
dam you

My hair is full of water full of steam
I look down and see look down
and see my belly

I don’t always like my belly
but tonight I do

I love you little belly
won’t go away
no matter how hard i try
won’t go away
running and stretching
won’t go away
working you sweating you out you
won’t go away
will you?

I love you
little soapy belly
I always will you
never said nothing you
never did nothing
to hurt me

http://www.katyamills.com/2015/09/little-belly.html

the bees knees

you color my black
                     and
                      white
i know your combination
by heart
     and you
         mine

i forget myself around you
then
      when
you suddenly
smile
and tell me who i am?

i become
         Someone

the case of the case

Some things are clearer than others. Some things are in plain sight. Like what you see is what you get. Anyone can tell. This is supposed to be reassuring. Comforting. In line with expectations. Falls into place with minimal redirection like the perfect tetris puzzle piece in some overriding hierarchical system of perfectly aligned personal judgment. For people who are not cases, this may be so. I would not know. Cause I am a case. I may not look like a case. but I assure you — I am. But it’s not until we converse, that most people realize I must be a case. And most people, by most people’s definition, are right. By majority. By simple numbers. The honorable cultural ritual of putting our collective trust in (apparently honest) numbers. The message is: numbers don’t lie. And the message is not under scrutiny.

So here I am. The tetris shape that ruined your reach for the high score. The tropical butterfly that swims like a catfish and cannot be pinned down. Because there’s no space created by most people for me. It can be exhausting. For you and for me. Having to reinvent the wheel everytime I walk in the room. Most people choose not to reinvent the wheel. They like the wheel. I like the wheel, too. My bicycle is my chosen form of primary transportation. A fan is my chosen conditioning of air. A disc is still my chosen form of music and video, when I choose accompaniment in the entertainment system to which I am inextricably impaled. But still, I would have it no other way. This is the life for me. This is the case. ME. I am a case in case you forgot. I am a case, in case we need intrigue. Mystery. Refreshments.

I am a known entity, though I cannot be quantified. Friends? They know. Family? they know. Me? I knew me all along. But apparently for the new ones whose paths cross mine, I am more or less than meets the eye. I am other than meets the eye. Some sadly decide less. Others wait for more. I can tell by the reaction for sure. But I know I am a case.  I refuse to define what i mean by that. I let you draw your own definition. This is part of what makes me a case. I can tell you what I am not. I am not whom the eye thinks or thought it was acquainting itself with. If an eye can make acquaintance. An eye that makes an acquaintance, strikes me as superficial at best.

A serious case. I could be problematic. A serious case, with a sense of humor up my sleeve. I might cause you trouble. Making little sense. But a little sense can go a long distance. Like miles, in the breakdown lane or bust. I might shake you down or shake you up. On the wing of a plane. A twilight zone illusion. Nervous breakdown. Someone’s idea of a tragic conclusion. I may not have limits, borders, or definition. Maybe I am jello. Or maybe just lucky. On strike. Out of work. Lucky gone happy. Carbon dioxide up my nose. Fruit roll up gone wrappy. Carbon monoxide up my nose. In a sleeveless, formless formal dress. In ripped jeans with a warrant out for my arrest. Steel eyes with steel toes and a belly full of steel oats. Around the neck, a mink stole. A faux mink stole. On the head, a sable pelt. A faux sable pelt. The real sables were set free. In gorky park. In my imagination and maybe yours. Keep-it-real minks and sables, together on world tours. Evasive. Direct. A girl with nothing to hide. A true case. Come on! Can’t you see? It’s written. On my blogs. On my face. I am undefinable. A case! 

Ya, i’m a case alright… i am most certainly a case !  Why else would Mr. Mason beat Lieutenant Tragg to the punch? Lieutenant Tragg had cased the place. He was less than a hundred yards from my door, had just parked his car. Less than a minute from knocking on my door, Tragg. When Mason, esq. come to my door and tell me, with a document in his hands and a wonderfully reassuring look in his eyes i could just bury my heart in!  Miss Mills? I want you to look this over and  sign here, quickly. Don’t answer any questions and do exactly as i say. And don’t worry, Miss Mills. Everything will be okay… there was a pause as I came back, renaissanced. Landed in Sacramento, of all places! In Midtown! Seeing traces. Visions of my past. Nightmares of Oakland. Nights on the street. Days that became nights. Nowhere to turn. Nowhere to write. I can handle the nightmares. The ptsd meds? I dropped them. They lowered my blood pressure, which was contrary to my opinion. Smoking cigarrettes once again. Marlboro black menthol hundreds! Wow, what a case. Not even Newports can replace. Woke up on the right side of a hideaway bed in a salvation army thrift couch. And this is what i wrote.

– Katya W. Mills  June 2013  http://www.katyamills.com   a true case

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