burstandbloom

Moving day

As we crossed the bridge
the mattress flipped
end-over-
end
out of the truck, into the lake
on its way out to sea

I laughed
at this burial at sea
a lighthearted funeral, it was.

Terry was flabbergasted and
afraid.
.
Everyone else just stared
not certain how to react
torn
between my laughter and Terrys
horror

I slapped Terry, on the back of the neck
"Say something, about that old bed, I said.

A slow
crooked, evil
smile
forced its way onto Terrys face and he said

That mattress never complained, when I masturbated on it
every night, nor when it got ugly brown
or puke green
sheets, that didnt fit.
That mattress didnt care about fashion,
Didnt care what
the TV mattresses wore.
Every night it welcomed me, and now
the sea welcomes it to a water-logged
slow-sinking
grave, where the Tiger Sharks will tear it apart.
I will salute this watery grave
every time I pass it
remembering the moments that mattress and I shared.
And all of you, I demand you swear
to steady your hand, if ever you come face-to-
face, with a Tiger Shark- knowing that shark might have eaten
my bed, and that beautiful mattress lives on
inside him, and that shark should die
a natural death
on the ocean floor
where my mattress will become, the oceans bed


A tear rolled across Terrys cheek and I
placed my hand on his shoulder
We are not making another trip,
I said.

Fuck you then,
was Terrys reply.




**
SONGS MY MOTHER HATED:
SHORT FICTION SET TO MUSIC

I and iamsick are putting together a book of short stories - called Songs My Mother Hated: Short Fiction set to Music - all containing a single favorite song lyric. Publication is planned in the Spring of 2005.

For more information email cdgetz@hotmail.com and rainermaria@hotmail.com.


Mike Hammer
New Orleans, LA
rainermaria@hotmail.com
504.232.3729

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