WAITING WITH ALEXANDRIA FOR HER MOM
I didn't take the bus to Blooming Glen, Pennsylvania and sit
with Alexandria in a booth at Ruby Red's for nothing.
She had no idea how much I adored the ride - I carried
two books with me, one of them a dictionary, I didn't check
a word in it. I recited Lincoln. Of everyone that passed,
the kid in a mini-van made a point; with a finger he told me
to fuck myself. I think the white collar and the blue
tie pissed him off. I was trying to give one life a rest
and resume the other one, my top button was undone,
there's a start. I didn't understand how to open the window
in case of an emergency. I followed the lines along my palm,
one went back to New York, God knows where
the rest went. The other book had everything I needed
to know about protest - one man stitched his lips shut,
another tried to drive a nail through his own palm;
they were heading to ministry; no one there could be reached
for comment. I want to describe the mouth as "tender,"
I mean well, there aren't too many other ways
to explain the white sores along the gum that come
with a denture, my Four score and seven years slurred,
the tongue caught in a small nitch between the plate
and the roof whenever it shifted to roll an "r." I loved
one phrase in particular, I was attached.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
was born in New York. He is the author of Moving Platform (2000) and How to Breathe in Case the Plane Goes Down (2001), both of which were published by Pudding House Publications
. His work has appeared in various publications including Exquisite Corpse and Cross Connect. Matagrano currently serves on the editorial board of Taint Magazine. He divides his time between New York and Illinois.