Poetry and Fiction Portfolio

Table of Contents Ground Zero in the Middle of America .. 1 Apocalypse Means a New Beginning . 4 Bikini Ready in Five Below 5 In Angels Park ... 14 Chained to the Riverbed .. 15

Ground Zero in the Middle of America Golden spots of fire spatter the chilly parking lot. Fall is starting to set in, and a mass of people collects with their candle light and thermoses of hot cocoa and coffee. Hymns are sung and posters are held aloft: Zero Percents better than Ten Percent and Stop Murdering Our Future. Some in the crowd cry, others emit a cool determination. Many fidget in an effort to keep warm. An excitement rustles through the crowd as the sound of an approaching car demands their attention. It is a rusted silver two door containing a confused looking couple of almost thirty. The candle lit mob assumes solemn expressions and begins singing All creatures of our God and King lift up your voice and with us sing. The couple walks inside a dull stone building with the swarm of voices at their backs. Upon entering the waiting room, the couple is greeted by a woman who looks up from her computer with a startled expression. Approaching the reception desk, the man lets out a long whistle, Did we come on the wrong day or what? Is it always this bad? The woman asks, showing concern for the receptionist with a wan smile. They do this about once a month, the receptionist starts to roll her eyes but stops herself. Usually our more regular patients try to avoid coming on these days.

The couple receives a clipboard from the receptionist and sits down to fill out their information. The man has to intermittently keep his face from reddening. The woman hides her blushes behind heavy layers of makeup. How embarrassing to fill out a form with Medicaid. Outside a small hand tugs on his mothers sleeve, I need to go to the bathroom. Cant you wait until we get home? the devout mother, Karen, asks. No! I need to go now, her child insists. Karen warily looks about her surroundings and asks around until she finds a group member who lives nearby. Well come on then, Karen urges her son, toting a near strangers house keys. As Karen finds her way to the nearby house, the songs fade off as the rest of the vigil grows curious as to what is happening with the couple inside. Someone suggests they pray for the couple and for everything to work out right, but this could only last so long and merely succeeds in rousing the groups curiosity. Talk ranges from speculation in regards to the couples personal lives to states rights to Auroras ruin. Gary hands out Tea Party business cards to people he doesnt recognize. Lisa and Michelle worry how this place will negatively affect their children, daughters especially. Marvin, a preacher, reminds of the temptation of sin; stay away from the snake in the apple tree. Karen quickly pulls her dark blue minivan into her fellow protestors driveway. She walks up to a medium sized pewter house in a large development, opens the tan door, and helps her son find the bathroom. Taking a seat in the living room, Karen removes her autumn jacket and reveals a t-shirt that declares Moms for Life.
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While shes waiting, Karen hears a strange noise for an empty house coming from a nearby room. Clutching her cell phone and treading lightly, Karen makes her way over to the nearly closed guest bedroom door. Using the toe of her practical sneaker she pries the door open a bit more for a better view inside. Finally seen by the doctor and finished with their visit, the couple retrieves their coats from the waiting room closet and wishes the receptionist a goodnight. Have a safe trip, she calls back. Peeping into the dim light of the bedroom, Karens eyes take a moment to focus. At first she does not know what she is seeing, but as her pupils grow bigger Karen perceives two grey figures wrestling atop an elevated platform. Karens face blooms like a carnation sucking up red food coloring from its vase. The figures are too entranced with each other to notice their startled peeping tom. Its nothing like Karen and her husband, too carefree, childish. She shudders when this idea hits her. Mom? Karen hears her son cry out from the kitchen. Karen quickly moves away, turning off lights in her retreat from the house. Inside the minivan, on the way back to E. New York Street, Karens son asks her why she is so quiet. Nothing, Karen reassures her son, nothing.

Apocalypse Means a New Beginning Since looking beautiful up-close, beneath a shadow is not the same as distant beauty, sparkling in sunshine, those who had the authority to do so placed questionable bags atop our heads where we could wait out our awkward stages. Since the earth rattled during the stuffy blindness we sought shelter in the cracks that formed in floorboards already too old to hold so many flimsy, grey cots. Ugly piles of us formed. Lucky we could not view our unsightliness. Since we were forced to remove the ties on the saline stained bags, the filtered light floated, dancing with dust, lasers on our weak corneas. How horrible to look on others not ready for the scrutiny of terrified faces, any faces at all. Since splintered support beams crushed those who had authority, we exited the collapsed structure like an elderly persons funeral party. With squinted eyes, guarded against direct sunlight, we sat beneath a thinning weeping willow for we had nowhere in the world to go.

Bikini Ready in Five Below While viewing the trees on my drive into work I think how scenic my suburb is in the fall and how unfortunate it is that its February. At this point in the year, everyone I see is fat from the holidays, the trees looking like Tim Burtons creations, all gnarled and the color of a white baby-blanket after living through an infants first year. When fall hits, you havent quite lost your tan or your tone, youre surrounded by warm colors and more pumpkins than anyone can ever seem to buy. February is falls decrepit grandmother, forcing her to leave so that grandmother can take her nap. Does that make sense? No. Does it matter? No, my thoughts dont have to make sense. My gaze passes over my pale knuckles as I turn into the Dunkin Donuts and circle around to the drive through. The look of my cold flesh stays with me while I order, purple and red flaking skin. I lost my gloves last week, and this is my punishment. My fingertips are starting to hurt when an elderly man with disappointment in his eyes passes me two boxes. I roll up my window as fast as possible, shivering as the burst of frozen air. The fried smell takes over my cars interior, sinking into the chilly fabric seats. Im frowning when I get to the parking lot, asphalt coated in salt residue, the neon sign offering Tan Tan Tan is washed out by the grey sunlight, and Cate is hopping as close to the front door as she can manage. I pull up to her and reluctantly roll down my window. Your car could use a wash. I throw the key at Cate, and she catches it with a clap of her purple mittens. Holding two large assorted boxes of doughnuts, I rattle the welcome bell on my way inside. Cates starting up the coffee pot, Mannys inventive idea to lure clients, and when I come

back from putting the doughnuts in the staff room the whole place smells like coffee, sweat, and coconut oil. Its a tropical marathon.

Did you catch the new mumble, mumble? Cate asks me. My listening comprehension skills plummet whenever this woman talks. I dont know why she makes these attempts at conversation. I know she doesnt like me. Still havent gotten the cable fixed, I lie. I lost my cable bill last year and didnt even notice it was gone until a few friends were over and pointed it out to me. I pour some of Mannys cheap coffee into a mug that could use a round through the dish washer and sit down to my desk opposite Cates podium. Its the greeting desk. But podium works. Why do they make us come in so early? Cate makes another attempt at conversation. Mhm. Who wakes up and thinks, Yeah its nine am, time for a nice dosage of UV? No one! I use the eraser end of my pencil to punch numbers on my calculator and sigh at the calculation. Staring out the window, I see a red and blue color-blocked form approaching the front window. He did, I say, too late for Cate to know that Im answering her question. Ring-a-ling.

Peter shakes off his outer layer, preparing to overstay his welcome. He lets his puffy jacket plop onto the thin carpet. I thought of a rhyme! Peter exclaims excitedly. Good morning to you, too, I greet him. The rhymes not for you. Hey, Cate, wanna mate? No, Cate throws back. But I worked so hard. Worked so hard? Mumble, mumble, mumble. I stare at my calculators solar panel, watch the brown rectangles cast shivering rainbows of light. The song Somewhere Over the Rainbow is suddenly stuck in my head. Fine! I guess Ill just go then! Peter lends his usual goodbye. Fine! Cate responds with hers. Peter never comes into the store for a tan. For some reason he knows Cate, and hes been just dropping by since she started working here three years ago. Hes a waste of space. Aggressively sulking towards the front door, Peter knocks into a man who is likely an aged quarterback or linebacker in a black hoodie that cant possibly be warm enough. Sorry, Peter murmurs. He probably doesnt like standing next to this man whos so much taller.

The man pushes Peters chest and continues walking in, followed by two other large hooded men. I lift up my hair to cool the sudden flush that creeps up towards my hairline. Are you interested in a summer glow this morning? Bed or spray? Cate asks hopefully, nervously. No, Black Hood #1 states. Then were going to have to ask you to leave, I hear, followed by tense laughter. I didnt see Cates lips move. I mustve said that. Okay, Black Hood #1 says, we will. We just need to pick up a few things first. Uh, sorry. Who robs a tanning salon? Arent robbers supposed to rob trains or banks? Although, it would make sense not to rob a bank, choose us: less security, less people, people stuck in well-lit coffins. That was grim. Why is robbers a word but not stealers? They rob, and theyre robbers. They steal, but theyre not stealers. Or are they? Is stealers a word? It sounds weird. And why apologize? I frown at the hooded men. What do you mean theres nothin in the cash register? Black Hood #1 sounds deflated. I feel triumphant and like we let him down. Hey, she said that its empty, Peter shouts and then backs away from the three men. I cant help but laugh to myself. Black Hood #2 sends a glance my way. Check for yourself if you dont believe me, Cate says, her hatred of not being believed overpowering her fear of the robbers/stealers.

Black Hood #1 signals to Black Hood #3 who confirms Cates claim. Maybe Black Hood #2 is #3 and #3 is #2. Why care about their hierarchy? On SVU they always ask the victims for as many details as possible. No, dont think about SVU. The former Black Hood #3, Black Hood #2, whispers to Black Hood #1. Wheres the safe? Black Hood #1 demands. In the back, but its empty. Cate sounds like shes getting fed up with these men. Thats empty, too? How do you pay rent? Black Hood #1 is incredulous. I take the money to the bank every Thursday night. No ones come in since then, I explain. Their unprofessionalism makes these men seem less scary. Unprofessionalism? Theyre still robbing/stealing (from) you. Robbing/stealing (from) the place I work, not really me. Taking from your paycheck. They havent managed to take anything. I examine their hands. Theyre pale and cracked. I want to exfoliate their skin until it bleeds and then rub a scented moisturizer into the open cuts. Theyre really useless thieves. It doesnt look like they even brought any weapons. Its probably their first time. I laugh at this thought. The former Black Hood #2, Black Hood #3, gives me a look like he thinks Im strange. I look down at my desk and remember that cell phones exist. I want Black Hood #3 to stop looking at me. Ow, man, what the fuck? Peter exclaims from the ground, clutching his shin. Dont pace, Black Hood #3 warns, leaning over Peter.

I grab my phone and hold it under my desk. I press my knees into the underside of the desktop to shield my link to the police. The room is so quiet. I can hear the rustling noises everyones breathing makes. I didnt know breathing could be audible. Peter makes his way over to Cates podium and rests against the wall. The Black Hoods have a powwow near the front door. The Black Hoods. That would be a good band name. Good or bad? I fold my hands over my phone and methodically scratch the back of my left palm. 1, 2. 1, 2. Even this makes a noise. How could I cover up the click of the buttons on my keyboard, the ringing, the 911 whats your emergency? Do the 911 people actually say that or is that something TV made up? Why would they make that up? The Black Hoods huddle their heads clustered together at the center of the room reminds me of recess in grade school when the girls would coagulate like spoiled milk, usually in three or four different groups of differing social status. I cant remember what my social status was as a nine-year-old. It was probably pretty important to me at the time. You were probably just somewhere in the middle then. Yeah, but where in the middle? Thats whats important, what I cant remember. Its the details of it that I cant remember, but I should! 1, 2. 1, 2. My left hand feels hot. Black Hood #1 breaks away, an independent chunk of spoiled milk. Hes about to speak. Cates head stops bobbing. She has stopped rocking herself back and forth on her heels. 1, 2. 1, 2. I feel a sharp pain shoot up my arm and let out a yelp, drawing my hands inward as if to escape a flame theyd gotten too close to. My phone bounces off my corduroys and smacks onto the floor. When I look down I see that my phones battery, its life-force, has fallen out.
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Everyone is looking at me. Oops, I say, because what else should I say? Black Hood #3 blocks my view and stings my cheek with his hand before picking up my phone and handing it to Black Hood #1. No phones during class, Black Hood #3 whispers, leaning towards my ear. Black Hood #2 seems pretty useless, standing like a boulder just watching the other two. Why do they keep him around? Black Hood #1 holds up my phone. He looks liquid. My eyes have sprung adrenaline leaks. Anyone else have one of these? Black Hood #2 collects phones from Cate and Peter. Would they have been able to call for help if I hadnt been so stupid? Yes. What even happened? I couldnt stop scratching forgot you were scratching and broke the skin. I look at my hand. Theres a wet red oval. I broke the skin a lot. I push my skin together to clean out whatever bacteria lives in my fingernails. This time when my hand burns I stay silent. A red droplet the size of a fruit fly darts down my hand. I rub away its trail to keep from getting blood on my white shirt. Lets go, Black Hood #1 commands. So it was just a wash, then? Black Hood #3 asks. These phones are about what we were expecting from the register, Black Hood #1 answers. Why is #1 answering to #3? I mustve gotten the hierarchy wrong again, but no use changing their numbers now if theyre finally leaving.
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Ring-a-ling. The three men leave so casually. I look over at Cate and Peter. Their faces are blank, and their eyes look larger than normal. I can tell theyre still upset about the phone thing, but I know theyll never mention it. The phone thing never really mattered, as itself. Since we survived Cate and Peter can think We survived; It doesnt matter. If we had died, well, dead people cant really hold grudges can they? You dont know if they can or not. And no one would be around who knew about the phone thing. Maybe if only some of us survived it would be a problem, but thered probably be the more pressing preoccupation of death or at the very least crime scene clean up and character sketches. As an action, though, had the phone thing caused death it would be really important, not that anyone would know. So it still would be irrelevant. Your killers would know. Who would they tell? The jury. Cate holds out her hand to show Peter how much it is shaking. She starts to cry and hyperventilate. Peter calms her down with a tight hug. I guess she was more than just annoyed by the robbers/stealers. I walk over to them, and, after a call to the cops, I sit back down at my desk while we wait for the police. I think how pizza would get here faster than men with sirens allowed to speed. I rest my chin on my hand and look out the front of the store, all windows. Its still grey outside, but the sun has just gained its strength, fighting with our fluorescents. Have you seen the new ? Cate asks Peter, and this time I force myself to ignore what she says, insisting on remaining unchanged. My affinity for ignoring Cate rivals her affinity for small talk. Peter picks himself up off the floor and limps to the staff room. He returns with two Ziploc bags full of ice wrapped in rough paper towel.
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Put this on your face. Peter hands me one of the homemade ice packs. You charm me. I take the ice pack. Ring-a-ling. I forgot somethin, Black Hood #2 says. He drops our phones to the ground. Tucked into his jeans, beneath his hoodie, Black Hood #2 reaches behind his back and produces some sort of gun; I dont know guns. My daughter died of skin cancer cause of one of these places. I hear a click and a whoosh, and the red on my hand reminds me of fall.

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In Angels Park Splintering wood is nailed together in the park filled with falsified angels. Rubber is chained to static-electric metal bars in the park across from the abandoned toy factory. Firemens poles stab into the woodchips in the park where construction sounds. Debris noiselessly floats atop the rocky stream in the park thats roped off with yellow tape.

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Chained to the Riverbed She looked at Cameron and frowned. What? he asked. I just realized, youre not as smart lately. He looked over at Charlotte and laughed when a warm breeze came off the river, flinging Charlottes hair into Camerons eyes and mouth. He sputtered and fireworks blocked out the stars. Charlotte knocked Cameron over and kissed him where his earlobe met his cheek. So are you just going to insult me or can you actually answer my question? Cameron whispered. Charlotte joked, Oh sorry for the insult. Charlotte, Im being serious. What? I dont think its a good idea, she shot back. Cameron tried a good cop approach. Come on, theyd love you. No, they wouldnt, Charlotte insisted somberly, overtaken by one of her characteristic mood swings and emphasized by an extra-loud firework crack. Youve already met one, half way there.

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In response, Charlotte shot ninja stars through her eyes. *** Charlotte and Cameron were playing basketball in his driveway when she met his mother unexpectedly. Charlotte had on a pair of red shorts that more closely resembled a pair of underwear underneath a low-cut, white t-shirt covered in squirrels that easily exposed her midriff. Charlottes Rapunzel hair was pulled into a top knot to avoid frizz in the June humidity, and she was flailing barefoot to any song that popped up on the radio (Charlottes special sort of basketball), when Eliza, Camerons mother, drove up to the house. The tiny plastic box blared music, and Eliza wasnt noticed until the unmistakable clacking of her shoes began vibrating off the black driveway during a commercial break. Eliza forged a smile on her work-worn face while her son scurried over to the gaping garage to turn down the music, leaving Charlotte standing under the hoop, the sun like a fat basketball stuck on the rim. Im Mrs. Mace, Eliza stuck out a hand as introduction. Hi, Im Charlotte Hodder, she replied cautiously and shook Cams moms hand. How wonderful Charlotte; do you know Cameron from school? No. I, uh, go to public. Elizas eyes dimmed just a bit. She said good-bye and made to go through the front door.

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Just before turning the knob she reminded her son, Dont forget; Im going to need help with the dinner tonight, Mrs. Maces eyes darted between the two old children, Im starting in less than an hour. Cameron couldnt stop laughing as soon as his mother was safely in the house. He pulled Charlotte into his arms, and Charlotte held out a flexed hand to how shaken the interaction made her. Wanna take me home now? Charlotte asked the arms wrapped around her waist. But you just got here. I just got back here, and I think that was a hint. Cameron murmured into her ear as Charlotte pulled him into his shiny black car parked on the street, picking up her sparkling gym shows along the way. They held hands in Charlottes lap for the fifteen minutes it took to cross the river to her house. She kissed Cameron good-bye distractedly and opened her front door with the key around her neck. *** I cant do it, Charlotte answered, looking up at the light barrage that comes right before the grand finale. Cameron traced her face with his eyes and clawed his left hand into the ground tearing up damp grass. He blocked the peripheral vision in Charlottes left eye with mousey brown strands and looked up at the show with her. ***

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After dropping Charlotte off, Cameron came home to his mom overheating beside the empty stove. Who is this random girl youre suddenly so close with? Charlotte? Cameron questioned, innocently taking a glass of water from the sink. How old is this Charlotte Ive never met? Eliza started taking out ingredients. Sixteen. Eliza quietly measure out grape seed oil and then, Thats illegal you know. Its only like three years, he tried to reason. Shes too young for you. You dont actually know her, Cameron began. Honey, you didnt let me, Eliza reminded heavily and sat down to the kitchen table. Cameron stretched back an arm to massage his neck and apologized. Eliza sighed, Just invite her over to dinner and do not tell your father until Ive prepped him first. *** The finale started beating against Charlotte and Camerons eardrums. The river reflected the skys patriotism while dogs howled along with babies who were offended by the booms.

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Charlotte and Cameron sat on Cams side of the river, the side where the town could watch explosions from the expansive lawn. Cameron twirled Charlottes hair. Charlotte death gripped a blade of grass with her pinky and thumb. Charlotte stood up during the applause, and Cam stood up facing her, expectant. Sorry, she backed away into the forming crowds, it was just a summer thing.

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