Buttermilk

I walk to school in a 

haze of buttermilk 

clouds

that 

tumble

gently 

and drift from place

to place 

to place. 

Wind tugs gently

at my heartstrings, 

Pulling me on and 

nudging me lightly,

from behind. 

The treads of my 

Toms wear down 

slowly, well better 

my shoes than 

the soles of my feet,

or worse still, 

the soul of my body. 

What will happen to

me when eventually

my soul is worn down

to nothing but dust? 

Who will care for me

then?

Procratination

Can I have a little second to think? Thanks. Sometimes it’s good to think. 

Today I thought about getting my hair cut, and applying for jobs, and setting up my RRSPs. Maybe I didn’t do anything about it but it’s almost kind of the same thing, right? 

Tomorrow I would like to go to the internet cafe down the street and sit in there with some hot tea or coffee and my laptop and deal with some of the things I’ve been thinking about so much. Namely applying for jobs, since I can’t exactly get my haircut in a coffee shop and I can’t set up my RRSPs until I’ve gotten a job. Which, by the way, is going to happen soon. 

Yesterday I went to school and found out my morning class was cancelled so I spent 4 hours in the library waiting for my next class to start. I checked my email, I checked my Facebook, I checked my other email, I checked my blog, I checked my other blog, I check my friends blogs, I checked my Moodle, then finally I went on Youtube and watched a few music videos for the songs that had been stuck in my head all morning. 

I looked out the window and watched some girl picking her nose or maybe she just had some dry skin there, who knows. It was kind of gross. 

I looked around the room and spotted a guy from my english class. I felt kind of creepy so I stopped looking around. 

I looked at my feet since my boots are cute and I spent a lot of money on them so I might as well enjoy them while the weather’s cold, and looking at them is better than doing other things. 

I went on Facebook, I checked my email again. 

I thought about going to Montreal. I looked up the cost of flights. Too expensive. I thought about how badly I need a job. I thought about my RRSPs. I thought about how I need a haircut. 

I looked up the cost of the train to Montreal. That’s better. Too bad the trip takes 4 days. Maybe next year. Besides, it’s cold in Montreal at this time of year. 

I looked up flights to Finland. Maybe one day I will move there. 

I checked my email, I went on Facebook. 

I packed up my backpack and went to class. Maybe next break I will do some homework. 

Gosh, thinking is so much work. 

The Waiting Game

Circular, circular with little black numbers. 

I remember a time, way back in grade 4 and I guess I would have been 9 and we had buddies. Grade 4 meant being an intermediate which felt like such a big jump from primary even though it was really only a year. Kind of like how in grade 11 me and my friend spent a good half hour talking obnoxiously and loudly about how 17 was such a big jump from 16, and how 16 didn’t feel all that old. I remember our social studies teacher was laughing, maybe because she thought we were so young or maybe because it made her feel really old. Either way, I guess it was kind of ridiculous. Now I’m 18 and it doesn’t feel all that old but 17 to 18 always seemed like such a big jump. I guess that’s just how it goes.

But anyways, in grade 4 when I was new at being an intermediate, and we got to be the big buddies instead of the little buddies, I made a few mistakes. To start with, we were supposed to teach our little buddies how to tell time. Each pair was given a little paper clock with plastic hands. I tried to explain to my little buddy how the clock worked, but I didn’t understand it myself. I went and asked my teacher and she made me feel stupid so I went back to my seat. I kept hearing the other kid’s voices drift across the room saying “half past four” and “quarter to” and “quarter after one”. Quarter to what? I wanted to cry I felt so dumb. I fumbled my way through some confusing explanation and my little buddy looked up at me, even more confused than I felt. We sat there looking from the stupid little clock to each other and finally I sighed and gave up. When I got home I think I might have cried, I don’t remember. 

Well now I can tell time. But that doesn’t seem to make a difference because people are always late anyways. Or maybe my watch is broken again. It’s vintage with a kitten on it and I only just put a battery in it a few days ago. When I was bored I used to sit there and spin the dial round and round or I would set it to the right time only to have to change it one minute later anyways, since it didn’t work. But now I’m sure it works, except here I am and there is still no sign of him. 

He said he works late but maybe he was lying. He also told me he loves cats but I heard from my friend Beth that he is very specifically a dog person, has a cat allergy, and even tried to trick his sister’s cat into going outside when he knew perfectly well that there was a family of coyotes in the nearby ravine. So sure, he “works late”. And I’m supposed to believe that’s the reason he hasn’t shown. 

***

It’s been 20 minutes. Maybe he got stuck in traffic. 

***

It’s been half an hour. It’s now quarter past. Yes, I do know what that means.

***

I saw a car go by a couple of minutes ago that looked awfully familiar. I think it might have been Beth’s except I saw a guy driving it so that wouldn’t really make sense. 

***

It’s half past. I am giving up and going home. Why did I bother getting my watch fixed?

***

He called me later that night and apologized. I told him he was stupid and I may have said a couple of bad words too. He apologized again and hung up. 

***

I called him the next day and apologized for swearing at him. He said it’s okay because he deserved it. We set up a date for that night. 

***

That night I stood him up. He called me 6 times, each time with a different tactic. I thought to myself, if you really cared you would have shown the first time round. 

I took the battery out of my watch and went to sleep. 

Safety

The morning sun wakes

up, I do too, a diagonal

slant covers me in a 

sheet of gold light, I 

lay beneath thin cotton 

sheets with warmth 

beating down through

the glass and I feel so

safe wrapped in blankets.

I slump down the stairs,

wooden stairs and dream

of the first sip of coffee

and I feel safe with the

steam from the kettle

warming my skin. 

I walk to work, it’s cold

outside and I long to be  

anywhere but here but the 

leaves from the trees are 

changing colour and it 

makes me feel safe to 

be right where I am. 

After work I long for a 

warm meal and a warmer

bath still to soak my 

weary body and once I’m

there I feel so safe amidst 

the bubbles, like no one 

could possibly find me here. 

I hear the rattle of his key in

the lock and I remember his

words and I remember his 

voice and once again I am

wishing for something else.

I put on my pajamas, the soft

flannel feels nice against my 

smooth skin, I feel safe. 

In the kitchen he is eating and

he gets up when he sees me

and he reaches out his arms to

pull me close to him and I 

flinch and pull away, 

with him

I don’t feel safe at all.