I walk through the house with hearts erupting from my head
they float to the ceiling like tiny balloons. i am wearing a sundress, yellow or blue, and i’m
imagining the Next You. colder, warmer, my long hair curls when i get it right. i arrive at the
upside down kitchen, chairs asleep on the ceiling, nowhere to sit. the hearts deflate to keep me
company, fill with light as they touch ground, casting pink on my peach or purple dress. i lie
down to feel their electric heat, paddle to the living room, everything covered in wallpaper. the
couch blinks at me, tiny kaleidoscopes of a face i think i could love. i rest my cheek against the
arm. sigh. i never think about love. love thinks like the kitchen, love is all imagining, love is all
feeling, feelings being thoughts from a harder to reach place.
the living room suddenly shines over with paint, matte beige. my cheek stings, i don’t want to sit
anymore. my strands retreat back into follicle and slick to my head. i shake the last heart from
my ear. it lights my path to the porch, glimmers out, and i am thinking about a feeling of loss. a
firefly nestles in its place, whispers, you are shutting down, you are shutting off. i think again
about the feeling of loss. i try to feel it, the whole house flashes then flickers. Past You walks out
of the light, looking past me. i think about leaving, i feel it, but the movement never happens.
You slip the sundress off my shoulders, beneath is all rust.