sweet disposition music video

 

tinned fish

tinned fish in the evening, tinned fish in the morning. no brushing my teeth in between. starving all day, dreaming about my nightly smoked trout. i'll put it on two crackers, make a little sandwich. make my whole house smell of fish. there's nothing else for me but my tinned fish. people run, people drive, people cry all night but i smile, knowing i got my tins.

morning comes, but i see no sun. time to wake up and have my salmon on ritz.

i sit on my basement floor, downing my concoction, looking at the 4,374 tins i have left. will it last me?

i haven't seen a soul since the final trip to the grocery store back in '81. i wonder if sheila's still there bagging groceries. she was 77 in '81. what's the year now? she may be gone.

starving all day, dreaming about my nightly smoked trout. wondering if the world's okay, i know i am.

the day i died

i was waiting in line for ice cream. it was quite a long line, maybe the longest i'd ever seen it. it was one of the muggiest days of summer, so we all wanted to reward our tongues for making it through.

i had probably waited for a good fifty minutes, and i was just about to be at the front of the line, but then i died.

i died about to retrieve my maple walnut ice cream cone.

the people in line screamed and huddled around my body. they yelled, "but she was so close to the front!" and "maybe it's just low blood sugar!" and tried to force feed me their gross cotton candy flavored ice cream, but i was already dead. it was no use.

it was a big shock to me when i died right there. that night, when i got dressed in my favorite summer outfit, my floral dress with tevas, and put on a light dusting of makeup, i did not think i'd die. i was about to cap off another beautiful night with a huge cone. i was promoted to a new position at work that morning, so why would i die?

did i go to the ice cream store too much and eat too many maple walnut ice cream cones? nobody told me i shouldn't, not even the ice cream man.

i wish i had at least gotten to eat my ice cream before i died. 

i died not knowing or believing in an after life. i died not believing i'd die. dying happens to people, not me, not us.

i died on cold hard ground with traces of sprinkles, dog hair, melted ice cream, and dirt around my body.

i died with strangers around me trying to help me up.

i refused their help and allowed myself to sink more into the tiled floor. i did not want to be lifted up. i wanted to shout, "this is it. it's really happening. i'm dying. look at me and prepare." but i had only one ounce of energy left. i licked my finger, dabbed it onto a sprinkle on the ground, and put it right onto my tongue. the tiny sweet purple sugar coated my teeth. 

this made my dying a little easier.