Forsaken

That's it, I've had it! How much loneliness is one wolf supposed to take? Day after day I'm tormented by the sight of  sheep in their social herds. They graze and play games and keep each other company. I'd bet my life that none of them have ever had a lonely day in their life. I wake up, I play, I hunt, I sleep in solitary, always unaccompanied. It's miserable, so pitiful. Most days I don't even comb my fur. My purpose is gone without a companion. Damn sheep. They're infuriating, treating their pack like a country club. Most people think sheep are generally charming, but they're wrong.  They are bullies. They run away anytime I come near, like I'm diseased or something. The nerve. I need a friendly "how do you do?". I need company dammit! These are desperate times, think, Wolf, think! Aha, a disguise. Yes,  I'll fit right in their white fluffy herd. Just tuck in the ears and the tail...that's it. Alright play it cool, you're visiting from the south, you heard about the green pastures, you're working on a screen play. Brilliant! That will impress 'em! Wolf, you are a talented, ferocious animal, don't forget it. It's time to get my feet wet. "Hi!".

Coherent

     Arid country was his living room now, he thought as he kept his steady pace aimed at the snow dusted Sierra's. His legs felt like steel underneath his purposeful body. Putting one foot in front of the other was habit now. It didn't require any thought. Thought. That was why he had been walking nonstop for the past 10 months. He started walking on a Tuesday. He had come home from the office, rigid with overdue work and incessant phone calls. He changed into his windbreaker, the blue one with white stripes, and running shoes. He had no intention of running, just going out for fresh air to "clear his mind". It was something that had been on his to-do list for a long time. As he passed Giovanni's Deli and made a left down 72nd his mind shifted with a breeze of clarity. He hadn't thought of a book to read or a show to watch, let alone have any room in his torn psyche for personal discovery since his sophomore year at University.  With each step he took his brain blasted through a restraint of conformity and social expectations. It felt good. It felt right. He wondered how deep his mind went, how much did he have to discover? He knew his walk wasn't over and couldn't foresee an end. Today was a start but it wasn't enough. It wasn't a decision about keeping on, it had just happened. Even when he wore a hole in his sole, it wasn't a decision. He put one foot in front of the other as if it were the only thing he knew.


*For any poetry fans, the title is homage to the author of J. Alfred Prufrock.

The Body

      The first thing you notice is her soul is dead. Estacy's gait is heavy with aggression as she stalks across the locker room. Her eyes are wide open and hot. "You know you're stinking up the whole room!" she yells at Emily. She stood as tall as she could, undoubtedly in love with her own profane mind. Her slick black hair parted down the middle falling down past her shoulders. Her eyebrows are thin with a lot of angle in homage to her naca roots. Her lips look so bitchy I think they might reach out and punch Emily on their own. Emily sits still on the bench, her head hung in fear. Estacy is relentless, first stepping on Emily's shoes and then ad hom; "You have a stupid haircut. I bet your mom cuts your hair, doesn't she puta?" I stand watching motionless just a few feet away, hoping I'm more invisible than Emily. When Estacy is done tormenting Emily she leads her pack past me out of the locker room. Nancy, the only ghetto asian of the crew, stops in front of me glaring with her black fervid eyes. She gives a heinous grin as she gropes my breast and shoves me hard against the locker before she storms after Estacy and her crew.

I'm going to enjoy watching them grow up into nothing.