Kathy introduced herself...
Kathy introduced herself as humidity, and in an instant she came into the room of you; said “I need this right now.” She forced you to breathe her air, to become the damp and dank of her insides. You were the second hand on the clock, an inquiry bleeding: and seriously do faces even have mouths anymore? You spin two wheels, like one wasn't good enough, and as water you hide behind a plastic curtain to flow, and fill and fill and fill and feel ardor in the form of petals soaked in the dew of your eyes. So when salt makes them rust, you aren't surprised.
Kathy is staring awkwardly forward, and telling your dream to you: "you were a sports utility vehicle, and inside of you there we were, all of us, and you kept blurring; no one was laughing but their bellies were still sore."
You make the realizatation...
You make the realization
that asking your stylist
to take just a hair off the top,
is not an effective means of communication.
Which might be the overall issue you need to be wrestling with in the first place.
So you say: "take just a hair off the sides,"
Jake Edgar lives and writes in Portland, OR, with his wife and four amazing kids. He studies creative writing / journalism Portland Community College, and Portland State University with hopes to one day write for The Nation . He is the managing editor of the PCC student Newspaper The Bridge . He also writes poetry and fiction. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in the Bellwether Review, The Pointed Circle as well as Concis, a Journal of Brevity