Four Prose Poems
I did a bad thing. A messy thing. I did a bad thing and I made that into a messy thing. And it all felt so good. Here I am. I am so fucked because it feels okay to be bad. I got a box in the mail. The box told me I was radiant and so I thought I might be radiant. I found my grandmother’s dildo in a drawer when I was cleaning out her bedroom after she did the big dying thing. It was purple and big and ribbed. I looked at the dildo for a long time. And I remembered her telling me once how she liked to be bad because it made life more fun. Made things a little more interesting. I thought: that’s cool. It’s okay for grandma to be bad. It’s okay grandma had a dildo. Grandmas should get to have dildos and grandmas should get to be bad. I want to be a grandma. Maybe if I was a grandma it wouldn’t be so bad to be bad. People might even cheer me on. People might say: Hey! Good for you! You only live once! But I don’t think people say that about me right now. I wish I could regret my behavior. I don’t. Maybe that’s the baddest part about me. Someone told me: You’re a badass. And I laughed so hard at them. Someone told me: We have impeccable timing. But they were being sarcastic. I have horrible timing. I know I could be on time if I tried, but I don’t feel like it. I watched a kid at the corner store count my change and tell me I had 10,000 dollars and that was wrong. I don’t have 10,000 dollars. I don’t think my bank account would know what to do with that sort of number. I had 10 cents. It was the change I had. I wanted cigarettes and the change made it even. He was wrong. I’m always trying to make everything even. I’m always trying to get even with you. You were bad so I’m going to be bad. I’m going to be badder than bad. I’m going to be the worst.
I had sex with a man who told me he would roast me a whole chicken. That was good enough for me. I went back to the first place that I wanted to tell you: I love you. But you were not there. And sometimes that is nice. I wanted the chicken so bad. I don’t even like chicken that much. But I thought it would be nice to have someone roast me one. Today I googled: what is a video model? because I wanted to know what you meant when you said: I got drinks with a video model. A bunch of stuff came up. I learned that a video model is when you watch a video of someone doing something and then you imitate their behavior. I made a video. I made a video so now I am also a video model. I made a video and I am going to play it for you. I am going to play it over and over and over again.
Grandma loved shoes. She loved sandals. And she loved boots. And she loved high heels. And she loved slippers. But then grandma died. And she couldn’t be with her shoes anymore. So we got them. We got all her shoes. The shoes were ours. But then my feet were too small. And I couldn’t wear them. And there were a lot of shoes. We decided to give them away. A lady came over when I was putting the shoes into white plastic bags. The lady’s eyes were crossed. I couldn’t tell who she was talking to when she was talking. She had a bag of frozen sliced bread. She wanted to give us the bread. And she wanted us to give her the shoes. An ideal transaction. Except I didn’t want her to have the shoes. I don’t care about shoes. But I didn’t want this lady taking them. But she brought the frozen sliced bread. And she said she loved grandma. And we were tired. And she really wanted the shoes.
The Best Thing That Ever Happened
I am so tired. I have a headache. I wish I could just stop doing that. I took 2 more than the recommended dose of ibuprofen and drank a coffee and Topo Chico. This sort of helped. I brushed my teeth and I brushed my hair. I took a shower and sat on the couch wrapped in my towel looking at my cell phone. My phone bill is past due. They said they might disconnect my service. And that would be fine with me. Because I wouldn’t be able to talk to you. You texted today. You told me why I cannot love you. You said I must have a mental disorder. I must have a mental illness. I must be sick because I cannot love you the way you need to be loved. And that is okay. If you need me to be sick, I will be. I will be anything. I will be a pickle. I could be a pickle. When I was a little girl my mom called me: Pickles. It rhymes with: Mickles. Sometimes she would call me that too. And now I know a guy with a dog named Pickles. He has a lot of plants and a wife and Pickles. But I am not a pickle and I am not sick. I am not anything. I am not in love with anything. I am not a person who pays her bills on time. And I am not a person that can sit still for very long. I like to move. I like forward motion. You say I am running. Running away. I am running towards destruction only so that I may withdraw whenever I please. You say a lot of things that aren’t good for a poem. And I want to stop waking up with headaches. And I want more money. And a better haircut. And whiter teeth. And I really really just want the phone company to stop charging me late fees. I think that would be the best thing that ever happened.
Mikaela Grantham is the founder and co-editor of Disorder Press which she runs with her brother. She currently lives in New Orleans with her dog, Ruby.