“it would be like not listening at all” by Sasha at Simit and Chai Co.


Friday July 8, 2016 at Simit & Chai
5:15pm
5 minutes
When I Am King, Dilly Dilly
Don Cummer


lotsa hurt
this week mornings with
bowling ball lumps in dry hot
throat mornings spent
scrolling tears
streaming feet
tingling
what can i do what can i do what can i
can i do
can i
can’t i
ally alley ally
i want to choke
the fear and
ignorance
mine
yours
i am sorry for my
race and our horrible
terrible empty
fear
fear
fear grips a gun
tight like a baby
the baby watching
in her carseat
the father reaching
for a license
for a license to drive
license to shoot
license to bleed
license to break
we are breaking
we are broken
broken down
broken up and open
broken open

“coconut oil and coconut sugar” by Julia on the 505 going west


Sunday May 31, 2015
10:47pm
5 minutes
from http://www.simplyquinoa.com/vegan-coconut-oil-chocolate-chip-cookies/

You can’t make fire with rain
(her)
STOP with the analogies
(him)
Just let me LIVE
(her)
I am trying so hard, believe me
(him)
Yeah, you’re not a martyr at all
(her)
You make me seem so horrible
So fucking horrible
(him)
I don’t know who this person you see is, but I swear it’s not me
(him again)
It takes horrible to know horrible
(her)
What?
Why would you say that?
(him)
I don’t know
Maybe you resist being horrible
because you are horrible
(her)
I didn’t mean that
Please don’t leave
(her again)
PLEASE
(her)

“new hipster beer” by Sasha at Higher Grounds


Monday May 25, 2015 at Higher Grounds
4:03pm
5 minutes
A beer tasting

L. orders me a drink, a new hipster beer, a tallboy can, and I don’t have the heart to tell him I don’t like beer. I drink it fast, for that reason, to taste it less. “Let’s get nachos,” I say, figuring if I already drank beer, cheese won’t hurt. “Cool…” It’s his favourite word. “Cool.”

I regret sleeping with him the second he’s on top of me. “Uh, I need to go to the bathroom.” He rolls off. “Cool.” I put on a hockey jersey that’s over the back of his desk chair, hoping to endear him. I don’t know why. Why do I want to endear him? I can’t help it.

The tiles are cool under my feet. I look for something to wash myself with and find shaving cream and toothpaste. Shaving cream it is.

I don’t go back to his room. I leave my clothes – my new bra, my ripped black undies, by cutoffs and my maroon tank top – I leave it all. Who cares. Thank god my purse is with my shoes. Thank god. In a hockey jersey and flip-flops, I hail a taxi.

“I’ve got to go” by Sasha on the 16 heading West


Sunday May 24, 2015
5:13pm
5 minutes
When I’m away
The Colourist


Marg died on Wednesday. I got the phone call when I was trying to decide which olive oil to buy, in the oil aisle at the IGA. “Hello?” It was Henry. “Hi Henry.” I looked at one bottle and then another and then another. “I’m so sorry to say, but Marg passed today.” “Passed?” “Passed on…” I opened a bottle and drank and drank and drank until I was sick. “Hello? Honey? Are you there?!” “NO ONE EVEN TOLD ME SHE WAS SICK!!!” “You two were out of touch.” “I would’ve liked the opportunity to say goodbye, Henry. Jesus.” And then, I puked, all over the oil aisle, a whole bottle of the stuff, a whole bottle. I dropped the phone and it shattered. So much for the fifty dollar case. I could hear Henry still, saying, “Honey?! Honey?!” A clerk came with a mop and a bucket, a kind face, “Honey is in Aisle Seven,” he said, quietly, to the disembodied voice. I lay down and pressed my face into the cool linoleum.

“Reducing your taxes” by Sasha on the deck at Horseshoe Bay


Monday May 18,2015
1:30pm
5 minutes
http://www.finance.ubc.ca

Across from him I’m all “What are we going to barbecue for dinner?” And he’s all “How much did you make last year?” I got here forty five minutes ago and I was cracking jokes for the first twenty. Twenty minutes. He’s all “When did you move here?” And I’m all “We got bumped up to first class!” And he doesn’t want my stories. He wants numbers. Okay! Okay. Numbers are a scary place. Numbers under the bed. Numbers hiding in the depths of the sea like the Loch Ness Monster. Numbers are extra time after school because I JUST DON’T GET IT. Give me a soul to sooth and I’ll do it with my eyes closed.

“I’m on Prozac, did I tell you?” by Sasha on the couch in Horseshoe Bay


Friday, May 15, 2015
10:27pm
5 minutes
View From The Dome
Theresa Rebeck


“What are you eating?”
“Nothing…”
“You’re chewing!”
“No I’m not.”
“Stop lying to me – ”
“Leave me along!”
Pause.
“I saw you.”
“You saw me doing what?”
“…”
“…”
“You know!”
“…?”
“I don’t want to say it! It makes it real! It’s gross!”
“Get over yourself.”
“Me?”
“…”
“Eating your toenail clippings might be the nastiest thing I’ve ever seen.”
“Your judgement is toxic.”
“Your TOES are probably toxic!”
“It’s natural. All animals preen.”
“You’re a grown woman. You are not an animal.”
“We are all animals.”
“On my God.”

“Happy Mother’s Day” by Sasha in Horseshoe Bay


Sunday May 10, 2015
8:33pm
5 minutes
from a sign at the florist

spit up on the front of this goodwill shirt
i don’t have much of it
goodwill
so tired i might puke too
flowers
i don’t want flowers
i want sex and a steak and in that order
if you really knew the way to my heart
you wouldn’t have given me this creature that cries all the time
and bites my nipples so hard that they bleed
i’ve gotten fatter than i’ve ever been
your gaze like a canon ball
the beauty you once fell for
gone
like the cat
poster on the tree at the end of the street
my body
all stretch marks and cellulite
my face
all frown lines and bags under my eyes
“diamonds” you used to say
diamonds
twinkle twinkle little star
how i wonder what you are
where you’ve been
i’m not sure about this creature
whether he’ll turn out alright
i’m not sure about how tiny his toes are
puts me off