“itching for Presidency” by Julia on S, G,and E’s patio

Saturday June 16, 2018
5 minutes
The Politician
H.L. Mencken

Watch the sky turn from velvet to suede
The city, whatever the opposite of itching, below
It is easier than it was the last time
The last time I wasn’t myself and still they loved me
The last time I was eating scraps of pizza and noodles and
the one most lie me told her aunt that I ate A LOT of food
I didn’t mean to be so hungry
I was worried about dying and leaving them dead
I am worried about their parents and I wonder where they are

The waxing crescent moon is keeping score tonight
Making sure I don’t rely on all my usual charms
The city can look so beautiful when the light hits it right
I only eat the watermelon cut into slices
I only take a blueberry yogurt and a chicken finger
I am the boss and they know it but they do not care
And I do not make them care
I make them feel important
I tell them they are

“I think he’ll appreciate this food” by Sasha on her porch

Friday August 19, 2016
5 minutes
Overheard on the 84

You slice watermelon. The juice drips
down your fingers over your wrists up your arms
and into your pits.
You pick out the seeds
the ones you can see at least
with the left fork finger and you stack them
one on top of the other on the counter.
The compost is patient.
You roll a lime between
your sticky palms.
You slice it open and squeeze it’s juice
on the melon
ready and waiting to receive.

“make a cool can” by Julia at Souzan’s apartment

Tuesday, September 8, 2015
5 minutes
from a LinkedIn profile

Ways to live, Days to be, Things to do, Dreams to have:
1.Make a cool plan with a cool hat on and go outside and say HELLO WORLD
2.Drink lemonade through a straw, out of a fishbowl with your eyes closed and your HEART OPEN
3.Wash your body and your lover’s in the lake and use the sunlight to dry YOUR BONES
4.Kiss the next person you see who is wearing a graphic t-shirt UNIRONICALLY
5.Spend a day on your belly watching the ant colonies under the rocks show you HOW TO LIVE
6.Eat an entire watermelon with your hands tied behind your back and don’t let your thoughts WANDER

“X&Z” by Sasha at High Park

Thursday June 6, 2013
5 minutes
from a sign on Harbord

It was a funny sort of morning. The sort of morning when the sky looks purple and the ducks are flying south, honking their way where you wish you were going. It was a funny sort of morning. The sort of morning where you wake, tangled in dreams of shark bites, gasping for breath and glad, for once, that you’re alone. It was a funny sort of morning. The sort of morning, when you long for a watermelon all to yourself, and no interruptions as you spit the seeds out your window onto the street below. It was a funny sort of morning. The sort of morning when you are compelled to call you old best friend, who you haven’t spoken to in seven years, who is pregnant with twins and lives on the prairies, with the big sky and a cow or two. It was a funny sort of morning. The sort of morning where you laugh at your own reflection in the mirror, a little cross-eyed, hair like hay, looking more and more like you crazy uncle who sends you e-mail chain letters every day or two, who hasn’t been to the doctor in three decades, who lost touch with everyone but you.