Pigpen

Apples conceit of me, oatmeal consists of me, grapefruit invigorates night, but I cannot taste a thing. The fragrance is recognizable; the flavor is cognitive. My lower abdomen ripens on the vine of imagery. Peculiar physical oddities gregariously greet black fractals of me. A hiccup worthy of dolphin sonar erupts through the air, bumps swell from curious anatomy, this heart beats for an unknown presence, eating is a painful chore. I am somewhat familiar inside a mirror however I exist inside your eyes.

"Look at me."

Thad peaks through a gloved hand adorned with rhinestones.

"I saw you."

"You will see me again."

"I hope so."

"I want you to come out of this, whatever this may be......meet me when I arrive."

"How will you arrive?"

"The same way you bid me to leave."

"They said we got to get rid of you."

"Who?"

"The people with goatees."

Michael Jackson is dead; I am unapologetic for the end.

"I got to wear this and spin around.....?!"

"Like a hooligan."

"What will it prove?"

"We will come again."

Our house is a completed skeleton with armored skin; Alfred is a mortician and I am his mortuary assistant. We await guests to join us for an unlimited moment however their rooms were built to be empty. Some looked upon the abode for extravagance; we are travelers of trade and sentiment. I care not for hospitality or hospitable homages to man. This is a building and there is room for everyone I adore; she does not understand.

"How many?"

"Enough."

"For whom?"

"Everyone I know."

"Where is mine?"

"I do not know you."

She leaves me a note...

I purchased a piece of land close by. We will be neighbors; we will get to know one another.

Clairvoyance is a pin dropping while our seamstress curses for the missed opportunity. A garment is a body I cannot recognize until a needle penetrates the entirety of my right foot. I am stunned for stillness to faint inside my Beau's shirtless arms.

"What a way to go....."

His tears stream rivers over my chest; I look down to see an abdomen sweating from stress.

"I would do anything to have them."

"Have what?"

"I know you notice."

"I do."

"The ceremony is over young man but I accept your confirmation as belated text."

A German Shepherd intermediate pup fumbles onto my legs; pain shoots from my sore heel into circulating veins. Zen calls him Sputnik.

"His mole is on the same cheek as yours."

"Will you kiss it for me?"

I suppose he is adorable but Odin is my suspicious sentinel carrying a bundled basket of bandages gathered from Alfred's medicine cabinet.

"How did you get through the lock?"

A key drops from behind his ear.

"Enough for a mummy."

"Mummification was a proposed method for preservation. Embalming fluid is administered intravenously after the body is completely wrapped.....lady in black.....yes?"

"Pharaoh..."

"Yes Miss."

"Do you suppose they were dead?"

"It would be impossible."

"Oh.....?"

"A dead body bloats out of proportion therefore these provisions would be purposeless."

This satellite fears the moon; our window is open and I desire strawberries. He gravitates a flying leap onto my lingerie; I am cautious of another existence. My Beau enters the room in his original garments; I faint, damn it.

"Which one?"

"Mine of course."

"It's in the same exact spot."

"He is a German Shepherd; don't they all wear a beauty mark?"

"He looks like you."

"Do you want to join me under the sheets or would you prefer to sleep with him?"

Please tell her the puppy is wonderful. I especially love the mark on his cheek. I kiss it before I go to sleep.

I send a postmarked card depicting a cartoon figure sucking a thermometer laying on a hospital mat.

We are overjoyed and delighted.

The walls around me are wide open; this space is outer energy.

"Wide open spaces...."

"Ludwig..."

"Room to make her big mistakes...."

My husband is visibly horrified; I wink three times to see his face.

"I will remember you as you are."

"I will look for you when I need a hug."

Olive yellow petrifies a light triangle formation, recovery eludes my expectancy, Pharaoh solemnly looks upon me as I feel his fading presence, coma is a vice for open eyes; there must be twenty-five people awakening inside this vessel, I forget my pride for the moment to see an ego spit a residential square.

"Luddy....."

"Needs new faces.....knows high stakes......I'm just a singing, that's all......"

"What brought such about?"

"Just thinking about my home again."

Thad rubs the sides of his face with oily hands slicker than a sinister man. I wipe my lips into a handkerchief to remove excess glandular distress. He ponders a sigh of breath odored by root beer dairy mixtures; his hair flakes onto the ground.

"Why are your lips wet?"

"I drank a soda."

"No!"

"And why not?"

"I don't ever want you to eat crap like that!"

"It was my saliva."

Sputnik is presentably taller than Odin; my Nordic nymph confirms this guest is overstaying his welcome. Sheba smacks the misguided orbital canine with a soft paw. A whine accentuated by unfed piglets instigates our mischief for outrageous giggles; his sow cries for anguish. We stop to portray innocence. A handsome man licks my lips in darkness.

"What if she sees us?"

"I don't care if she does."

"I prefer not to be interrupted."

"I will do anything for her to leave us be."

"I will too."