This is my freewrite from the in-class Q & A session.
My family moved from slimy tangerine E-Town to St. Charles, with its Shymalan retirement homes, where I baby-sat Ariel, the stocky five-year old with Nike-black hair. Every afternoon we would walk to Wazoo, where there was only a store and a street, and hide and seek in the ice cream aisle, why ile I avoided the slinkies. Every night in St. Charles, I stare up at my glow in the dark stars thinking about the times Caitlin brought our hamsters back to life, and wondering what we're all trying to figure out. Where does it all lead? Is there a ghost town past the sky like Wazoo where kids with wings play tag football without stopping to let cars through? Are Chocolate, Cocoa, and Milk giddy on bright pogo sticks somewhere past the patterns on my Styrofoam sky? What about that cat that tried to kill me when I was ten?
I love seeing the ways we take the same things and turn them into our own interpretations. In this piece, I like how the end dissipates away from "meaning" something and instead reminds me of the list of things that pop into your head when you are trying to fall asleep. Odd memories, the laundry list of things to do, questions that might just invade your dreams that very night...
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