why does she have the key to my secret room?

we're getting out of class and we're all pretty excited to be back together again. on the bus we're reminiscing. we're trying to remember what a few kids would sing on the way home and kristy belts out an "ooh oh wee ee ohh oooh" and we remember. yes! that's right, she's got it! we laugh all the way to our own stops. earlier we had all been sitting around an empty room in our ripped jeans and adult bodies. there are new people too. i get off at my stop and run up the stairs. my mom had told me that there was a cleaning lady and she had the key to a secret room that she found. i get to the top of the back stairs and wait at the locked door. she opens it not expecting to see me. i tell her that i know she has the key and she is in fact just pulling a bike out of the room. from what i can see of a corner, it looks big and empty with large marble-patterned tiles. she closes it and leaves. she thin with long blonde hair, about my age. she looks innocent enough, but why should she have the key to the secret room of my house on mathew rd? i decide that i will ask for it. i should have it, not her. she'll have to give it to me, since she works for my family. i suspect that there is a secret drawer in the wall by the stairs that she doesn't know about, but i'll check on that later. i walk on through to the regular stairway and look out the second story window. there is a restaurant/bar there. i am shocked. this place used to be surrounded by trees and cornfields. how much has changed since i left? i ask seth if it's any good and he says that it's alright. i think that maybe i'll go there for dinner, i might as well get to know the place again since i'll be staying there. i go outside into the wet parking lot and look at the signs through the fog. it's chilly, but comfortable. just the way i like it. i think that i should go to the library and ask for maps of sterling and rock falls with borders so that i can reorient myself, i have no idea which direction i'm facing. i decide to go exploring and find myself in the basement of my home. i go out the door into a set of underground pedways. i think that it is quite convenient despite my surprise. there is a bustling business center down there. at first i only see secretive, dirty, thick and heavy basement doors with small reinforced glass windows and peeling notices for the hosptial. they go to the gynecology department and to the varification of records department and to the testing center. but then i find myself in a large foyer that is teeming with people and markets. in the center is a table covered with a huge pile of wet, cooked white rice. 2 cups for a dollar they tell me. the young girls, who look so much like my maid but in druid garb, ask me to watch. they reach into a bowl and put handfuls of cinnamon on the rice. then they start to mix it up, but it's not working so well so they poor milk right on the table from a pitcher. it splashes and soaks in and drips off the edges of the worn and raw wood table. the girls work their hands through it mixing the rice and cinnamon together. a young man is with them and flashes a well-practiced smile at me. 2 cups for a dollar, it's a great deal, they remind me. i think that it is a great deal and i have a dollar. but something's not right. just thinking of the sweetness makes my stomach turn and i think that they shouldn't use cow milk, they should use coconut milk. i'm beginning to sense a trap when my alarm scares the hell out of me and makes me jump up wide awake. texturally, the most vivid dream in months.

you need a reed

i was being chased by a vague gray-clad person. his whole body was covered in gray - like a lycra suit or something. and i knew i couldn't outrun him so when i came by a pole, i climbed up it. it was a tree. but it only had two tiny branches. i went to the top one about a hundred feet up. and before he reached me and touched me (really, i was just afraid of his touch, not being killed) i decided that i would jump. i thought that i would probably just break my legs but otherwise survive. and so i went to the end of this tiny branch with its two leaves and i hung from it ready to drop. but i was stopped. a plump motherly figure firmly told me "you need a reed." and i was annoyed that i was being disturbed in this stressful moment but she repeated "you need a reed. it will bend and you can drop safely into the water." and even though it was barren ground beneath me, i saw the truth of this. and then i was sitting in a bathtub washing myself and thinking "a reed. i need a reed." and she had brought me to this clean place where i could think and there were big bright clean towels to dry off with folded all around on the white tile. she asked me if i was okay and i said that i was. my mind was racing with gratefulness and thoughts of how i had almost dropped and injured myself but just needed a reed.

david and the bulldozer, alligator, white ebony, and anger

preparing for surgery, it is my job to verify the phone numbers of patients and circle the numbers on the charts and give them to the surgeon. today, there are four surgeries at once. two of them are patients i am responsible for. flipping through their charts, there is a photo of each patient. the doctor pulls out every photo and asks me to name the two patients that are mine. i can name the baby, the not the five year old boy. "jesse" he tells me and i repeat the name, ashamed that i could not remember only two names. i will never be a great nurse, i think.

standing in the atrium by the OR entrance, a nurse flips through photos of a man. he is a famous photographer named david. each photograph is of him a different age standing in front of larger and larger blades of bulldozers. the nurse explains that it was foretold when he was very young that he would be crushed by a bulldozer and he has been obsessed with this notion his whole life. he is coming here so that we have a chance to save him from his fate. we look up to see him running down two and a half flights of wall to wall stairs in the atrium. behind him is a bulldozer the size of, and shape of, a gigantic house. i say to the nurse next to me "but surgery won't save him, will it?" she still stares straight ahead at the doomed man running towards us and shakes her head "no."

sitting in the joint commons room with my classmates, we hear that a couple of students are going home. it's not a pleasant school to be at so we are all a little jealous but there is sadness also because we've had to become so close to survive. i am sitting on the couch and the alligator is laying across the top. he is a tall, strong, sensitive, older and intelligent black man in an alligator suit that he never takes off. it's easy to fall for him. presently, a young girl of about 19 years that resembles my cousin is leaving. she has said goodbye twice already, but she just can't bring herself to leave the alligator. she comes in with a tall, pale, nasally speaking white man. he tells her that Niger most definitely means "apple". she stands her ground and says proudly that he is wrong, it means "black". the people around the room agree with her. the alligator backs her up in a forcefully deep voice. she points to a map leaning against the wall and says that she is going home to Nigeria. the alligator tells her that they cannot be together until she finds a matching alligator suit and maybe she'll find one there. she says that she will do even better than that; she will find white ebony which will allow him to shed his suit. they embrace and it is clear that they will truly miss each other's company.

jolene's parents are taking her home too. they're angry about something. she is panicking, rambling things that don't make sense. she is flipping through the notebook and i see that each page has a title "who i love today" and check boxes with names underneath. sometimes it is the alligator. lately, it has been me. sometimes she has changed my name to "kaylynn". her father is a large, bald, and angry-red man. he lefts her out of her chair by her arm and leads her away. i get up and walk away from her sad notebook.

i realize everyone has started eating. i put a little of the disappointing buffet on my plate but it all has seafood in it and i can't stand seafood. i get to the pathway to the other half of the cafeteria and almost run into closed glass doors. i am annoyed that they are closed but no one seems to have noticed me standing there awkwardly wondering what to do next. i see there is an open panel in the glass to the right by the seafood. i go there and walk into the half of the cafeteria where my friends are. i'm much more comfortable and at ease here.

my dad is visiting. he wants to know how we like it. we tell him it's terrible. he says it can't be that bad, there's 19 buildings and so much to do. i tell hm that there may be 19 buildings, but we'll never know. we're only allowed into a few rooms: the cafeteria, the common room, the sundry store, the classroom, and the tiny, windowless, hot room where dave shiner gives his boring 3 hour sermons. my friends agree and testify that i am telling the truth. my dad looks angry because he paid for something else. but he is not angry enough to rescue me from this hellhole. i know that for sure.

on a committee in a large sunlit room that i have never been in before, we sit around a rectangle shaped by tables. there is a new faculty member. he shouts and argues that we need to change the tax code around graduation gowns, it's not fair to the students. they just can't afford it! the older faculty all look angry that someone is standing up for the students but only one person argues against it. i know that this is huge. i don't quite understand this tax code that they are shouting about but i understand that we students finally have an advocate. i roll my pencil up and down my notepad, waiting silent and excited, listening carefully.

Detroit?

we are watching tv at my mom's. we love to do this because she not only has cable, but she has a huge tv. an infomercial comes on while the boy is on the phone with the presenter. they seem to have come to some sort of agreement and the host is one of those very smart boys from mchenry. this portion of the infomercial is a special deal, just for us! he tells us that for $240 he can get us a 150 inch tv and they'll even take off the $120 cost of flying chris out here to set it up. i don't know who chris is but the boy has already agreed and i can't deny that it's a great deal. but i don't know how i'm going to get $240 either.

i'm walking through detroit. the sidewalks are a little wobbly and i'm glad i'm only holding a light plastic bag along with my purse. but soon enough, i crash through and am in a dirt tunnel beneath where the sidewalk should have been. there is a hispanic man and a little girl walking ahead of me. they look back, but don't say anything. i follow them back up and they go into a house. i follow the now sturdy sidewalk but cannot get out of this section of housing. there is a chain link fence everywhere. i even climb up on someone's cellar door to see if i can climb but there is electric fence at the top. it's a lot of security, but i feel reasonably safe. i go back into the tunnel and climb back out where i had fallen and walk around the fence and along the street. there is a business man in front of me. i ask him if there is a number i could call to for the city. he looks at me like i'm crazy. i say, you know, a hotline i could call for information or to make complaints. they sidewalk fell in back there. if they don't fix it, they are going to get sued. he tells me to call 3333 and sarcastically says "good luck. whenever i call i don't get anyone to answer." so i text my message to 3333 expecting no answer but angry and not willing to stay quiet. i get an immediate response that Doyle (the sherriff) saw me at the vet the other day. i perceive this as a threat but i've got nothing to hide.

waiting under the train tracks for a bus i see lots of people. they live in mobile homes and out on the street but they are all in a joyous mood. it feels like a holiday. someone recognizes me and says hello. we embrace warmly. it is angie from high school and she looks terrific and happy. she leaves abruptly for her train but she smiles genuinely before saying goodbye. i wait for my bus clenching my bags and thinking that i don't need the tv.

tornadoquakes and earthdrawers

we are at a tori concert. it's been pretty good so far and i enjoyed myself thoroughly, but i'm older now and it all kind of sounds the same so i don't feel like sitting through the encore. she has two pianos on the stage and saradevil comes out and starts playing sister janet and belting out lyrics. "master shaman, i have come." i smile at her confidence, happy that she has this moment for herself and go down to the basement.

i sit in a leather cushy chair with my feet on the coffee table next to my friend. he is not particularly attractive, a little heavy, hair mussed, rather plain looking in his balck t-shirt and dirty baggy jeans. but he's nice to me and he listens to me and this is just fine for now. i practice flirting with him. i tell him that there are about 400 songs on my playlist and i chose the specific order of each song but really i wanted to put all of the megadeth songs at the top of the list. he lip syncs along with dave mustane and i am sincerely impressed by this boy. i tell him that i need to call his friend to see if he wants to hang with me. he seems a little hurt that i want to leave him and i brush it off like the arrogant teenager i am. i just want to be around more people is all. i call but he doesn't pick up. i shrug and continue to listen to music with him in this concert hall basement which has windows that look out into the depths of a muted sea. fish swim by silently and we don't even think to look at them we are so used to it.

my mother is working at the marina again and my friends and i really want cookies. but then i remember that we don't have butter. we are wandering around outside deciding to go to the store when we fall. grabbing the grass i look up and point to a place in the sky. i don't really know why i'm pointing there but we all look and soon can make out a tornado. it's big but going away from us. however, it's still strong enough to cause the earth below us to rise upward and expand. when the tornado is gone i look below me and see a perfect raised square about a foot higher than the rest of the ground. about 6 inches high is an extension, another rectangle. as if the earth was raising up secret dressers and pulling out ancient drawers. they are everywhere. houses have towers of earth that have smashed through them up to their roofs and dirt and belongings are pooring out of their doors and windows with curtains fluttering outside in the the breeze of a calm and sunny day. i think that i am glad i didn't go to the basement and it's stupid for us to think it is a safe place. i could have been smashed into the ceiling.

i call my mother and tell her of the earth drawers. she laughs and asks me if i honestly have never seen them. i'm a little hurt that she thinks me so naive, but i admit that i have never seen them in my life. she tells me that she used see them all the time just by laying on the ground on her stomach and saying through cupped hands directly into the earth "hello, hello, hellloooooooo."

we decide that we don't want to make cookies anymore. we'll just buy a box of pre-made brownies that just have to be greased and cut.

riverside bed and clay in a tube

my boss tells me that they don't have enough volunteers, could i spend a couple of hours working in the river? i agree. i know that i won't get paid as much as the volunteers (they get $50 an hour for this branch but only 25 cents and hour for the others) but i like my job and i want to keep it. i pick out waders but am not sure what to do about my arms. my boyfriend is already in the water and he tells me to wear long underwear, i'll be able to move more freely and be fine. but i don't want the pollution to hurt my skin so i put on the heavy awkward waders and get my elbow-high rubber gloves to stay water tight by rubberbanding the tops to my arms. sufficiently protected, i go in. the water is warm and calm. the trees are healthy and full of life despite the frosted plastic ceilings above this indoor branch of the river. i reach in and start pulling out sludge and slime and seaweed but the handful. i look to the green shore and see a giant canopy bed that two girls are jumping and giggling on. it's a beautiful site and i would love to sleep next to a river like that. the girl, a former work-study student of mine, tells me that her dad bought it for her birthday.

in the hobby shop i am amazed by the selection. an asian woman is wandering around. i show her the paint room and she squeals with joy. she asks the owner where he get such big tubes of clay. i agree, they are very special. they would be wonderful high quality paints to have in bulk for a classroom. she takes out pictures painted by her son. they are very simple stick drawings done by a 4-6 year old. i get the feeling he's not alive. i show her the room of yarn and she just starts opening drawers and crying with joy. i point out another room of polished mohagony floors and furniture. inside every card catalog-like drawer there are thousands of tiny slivery metal figurines sculpted with insane minute details. i can't imagine what you would use them for, but i guess people are pretty into them.

library, vaginal stenosis, murder, and violets

We are on a bus going to some place awesome. Where that is, what concert it is, doesn't really matter. I got the tickets for us because it's something we've always wanted to do together. And when he wanted his friend to come along, I even got her a ticket. But now, rather than sitting by me on our romantic bus tour, he is five or six rows up sitting with her and not me. I am not pleased. I decide that I am not going to sit through this and be angry, I'm going to go do something that I enjoy. I ask his friend if the bus goes by the library, I just remembered that I have to get something there. She tells me that we just passed the road leading to it. I ask the driver to stop please so that I may get off. everyone waits patiently while we argue. I tell my boyfriend that I know I'm not his dreamgirl and that I know he never really wanted to share this with me. I pull out my wallet, give him the tickets, and tell them to have a good time.

At the boarding school they play a new game that is sweeping the world. All the young girls join hands and the coach is in the middle with cloth attached to him/her for the girls to hang on to. The girls form a asterisk and fan out. Then the coach starts spinning and the girls walk in circles. There are dozens of them on the field, one team takes up yards spinning their stars faster and faster, but at a gradual pace. When it feels like a good time, a girl falls down and lays on the ground and the rest of her star's arm continues spinning. You don't win or lose, but you perfect your ability to move as a team and know when someone is going to drop off so that you keep moving without slowing down or faltering.

In the locker room: The lockers all have LCD screens with faces on them. Some are baby photos of my nieces and nephews. Some are orphan girls who are strangers, some are top secret agents, some are just there. They loop lines we have had in movies going one by one through each locker. When it gets to my face i am a 14 year old with long hair and big white teeth. My image says calmly with a smile "vaginal stenosis". The girls in the locker room giggle and tell me they are so jealous of my line and so proud of me for saying it so clearly and sincerely. I tell them it was nothing. It really was nothing.

We are gong through abandoned houses. We have to find the right one to make our own in time. They gave the rescue dog the wrong time so the dog is going to appear ready to save a life but there won't be a reason to for another hour. We don't want the dog to sit around, get bored, and leave before the real danger is here so we are in a hurry. There are magic tools, construction tools, and kitchen tools in the houses right where they were left. College flags are tacked to the walls. Couches are becoming dusty without use. We find the right house and set up the party.

People start arriving in droves. I don't know any of them. We start playing the movie that will show the person arriving and the dog will distract him so that our friends can run him over with their car. People are BBQ-ing and the party is getting a little out of hand, so I ask an agent, why don't we just fast forward the movie? Someone accidentally recorded a children's show in between the beginning and end of our movie - why don't we just skip that and then the dog will be on time? Eventually the man is walking toward us. He is spotted down the street and I mention this. Everyone gets into their places, the couple gets in their car, but the guests keep on partying oblivious to the murder about to take place. My work is done, I can't do any more. A man walks in with a yellow plastic bag on his head as a hat. He goes into the bathroom, vomits in it, then comes out and ties it up and throws it in the trash.

This is not for me. Parties have never made me feel comfortable. I go outside into the large empty backyard. The grass is dry but there are thousands and thousands of pale wild violets covering the land. I start spinning until I feel like it would be the most pleasurable time to fall down. I do, and I just lay there alone in the violets staring at the overcast sky.

Puppy Fish

It is a large rolling green space. There are merchants and activity, but it is not crowded. I have been sent out to gather the dogs. One of them may have ear mites or fleas and so they must all be sprayed. I hunt around, finding one of the black and brown muscular puppies and dropping it into a pail. I find another identical puppy and drop it in on top of the first. They lay there scrunched into a too-small space and let me spray them repeatedly with some type of cure-all. I look around some more but do not see others. I turn back to the pail left on a merchant's display and find that it no longer has my puppies, but now has three fish tails sticking out of ice. I explain to my boss that someone must have dumped them out and replaced them with fish. He sighs in relief and tells me, "Oh good, I was wondering how you got them to stay upside down like that."

In search of pups (I know there are several, all identical) I go into a small coffee shop run by Kenyans. My advisor from grad school is there. She tells me that I can come back if I just take this test before Wednesday. She holds up several pieces of paper stapled together. It is a test that I had started years ago and I can already see her markings, her plans to fail me. I tell her that i have no interest in her test. I tell her that I have moved on. She says that she wants me to have a chance. I tell her that she does not. That she gave out several chances to people who were lazy and inattentive but she did not give me a chance. Not a real one. The Kenyans come over and whisper to her that they know I am telling the truth, they can sense it, and that she is stepping beyond her bounds. If she does not stop harassing me, she will no longer be welcome here. I get up and continue my search.

There is a fall in the land. What appears to be large slabs of rock piled hundreds of feet high is actually junk. I slide down, catching my foot on a glossy pink cardboard box on my way down into the warzone. There are families climbing down as well. A family picks up a toy and exclaims "It's exactly what he wanted!" A boy carefully places his feet in secure places without even taking notice of the tresure of toys surrounding him. I look up at the box that caught my slipping foot. It is a life-size Barbie doll. She looks just like the original, but she is labeled as a princess of some Middle-Eastern place. Her tiara is secretly an odd-shaped wireless mouse perfect for spying. The company was not given rights by Mattel to sell her and so, like what makes up the rest of this place, they threw the discontinued and unsafe toys here at the border between worlds.

I get to the bottom and go into a school. I am granted an interview. The place is dirty and the neighborhood violent, but I want to be doing something. The principal asks me if I can teach math and I admit that I cannot. Only up to 4th grade. Math has never been my thing. He asks about Scoial Sciences and I tell him absolutely, I can. I would love to. I am already flipping pages of books in my head. He nods decisively. I am hired. Just like that. They need male teachers like myself and so I think that they will keep me even if I am not good at first.