Poodle sweater.

lights 
Flashing, and blinding me
With their unannounced 
And unwanted appearance 
My sweatpant, and old sweater clad figure 
Being being captured 
And held captive 
inside these little black boxes 
Caged 
For all the world to see
"Crap."
I mutter to myself, closing the front door,
Newspaper in hand
"I hate being famous."
I toss the paper on the kitchen counter 
And pull a bowl out of the cupboard
I've been sitting at the counter a while
My lucky charms becoming soggy 
As I contamplate my life desisions 
When I hear my mother shouting at me
"Mi hija! I need you! It's an emergency!"
I'm startled
And in my hurry I knock over the bowl of cereal
Causing it to spill all over the floor
"Drats!" I say, not looking behind me as I run up the stairs
And find my mother on her phone 
"Nattilie" she says, holding up her plastic jewel covered device
"How do I make it work?"
First I see a picture of a poodle,
 the poor thing appears to have been shoved into a neon pink mini sweater
And before my mind could even fully proces that 
I see the price 
"Four thousand bucks?! Mum, what are you doing? You don't even own a dog!" 
"It's not for a dog, silly, I think it would look nice on your little cousin!" 
I put my forehead in my hands
This day is off to a rough start. 
 

 

Inkpaw

VT

18 years old

More by Inkpaw

  • The Boxes In The Corner

    Looming over your shoulders

    Each stack higher than its former

    Every thought and every scrap

    Of an idea too scared to ponder

     

    Every moment that hurt

    Each minute that lingered longer

  • Inadequacy


    How do I push the words out
    From behind my taffy tongue 
    Thick with salty tears 
    And full of grubby thumb 


    I’m a child 
    Pretending that I’m numb 
    To escape the overwhelming feelings 

  • Paper Frogs

    Why

    When feet fall soft but quick 

    Does the hallway extend

    And the hot breath of whoever’s behind me feel hotter 

    Why do I stay pressed to the wall 

    Like a stubborn gruby sticker