I've learned that graphite is carbon in layers and sheets that can be rubbed against things, rubbing off a layer each time, making it ideal for pencils, leaving itself in a hundred places, a thousand words, a million letters, until it is "gone" (but really just spread out). Have you ever thought about it like this, that maybe we are all graphite, rubbing into other lives, leaving ourselves on other people, until we are gone and all that is left is our skeleton and a million people-markings, people who have touched our lives in our last days (which is always, always and also never, never).
There wasn't graphite, there was coal, and it was coal that kept us cold at night. Coal that made us hungry. Coal that kept us asleep. But, I'm spreading myself across my brother who's holding tightly onto my waist (because I've always been warmer than him). Maybe he's spreading himself on me, maybe I'm the reciever. But, maybe not. Maybe there isn't a reciever. I know he's taking what I have and I feel bad for wanting it back, but I'll never take it back. I'll give him food, I'll pass him whispers, but I won't take it back. We drove past two boys sleeping on each other in a hill side a year back, he had his eyes fixed on them; I know he thinks about that image often because of how he sat after we drove past. It made an imprint on his forehead. I whisper now in his ear an easy interpretation of that moment. They were graphite sticks. The sun was turning them to dust. They were spreading out across the earth.
apples blowing bubbles cats dresses and dancing badly eggplant colored anything funny faces and french going to the movies high expectations ice cream jackson 5 knots laughing at everything missed phone calls newspapers old people polaroids quiet in the morning rainy days and sunday afternoons talking and talking and talking umbrellas volvos waterfront (e)xclamation marks! yellow birds zoo
Comments 56
ground beef
taco salad
barbeque sauce
french fries
mashed potatos
macaroni and cheese
green beans
collard greens
mustard greens
hamburgers
curly fries
cheeseburgers
pizza
pepperoni
sausage
cheese
pineapple and ham
coke
diet coke
sprite
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I've learned that graphite is carbon in layers and sheets that can be rubbed against things, rubbing off a layer each time, making it ideal for pencils, leaving itself in a hundred places, a thousand words, a million letters, until it is "gone" (but really just spread out). Have you ever thought about it like this, that maybe we are all graphite, rubbing into other lives, leaving ourselves on other people, until we are gone and all that is left is our skeleton and a million people-markings, people who have touched our lives in our last days (which is always, always and also never, never).
Reply
There wasn't graphite, there was coal, and it was coal that kept us cold at night. Coal that made us hungry. Coal that kept us asleep. But, I'm spreading myself across my brother who's holding tightly onto my waist (because I've always been warmer than him). Maybe he's spreading himself on me, maybe I'm the reciever. But, maybe not. Maybe there isn't a reciever. I know he's taking what I have and I feel bad for wanting it back, but I'll never take it back. I'll give him food, I'll pass him whispers, but I won't take it back. We drove past two boys sleeping on each other in a hill side a year back, he had his eyes fixed on them; I know he thinks about that image often because of how he sat after we drove past. It made an imprint on his forehead. I whisper now in his ear an easy interpretation of that moment. They were graphite sticks. The sun was turning them to dust. They were spreading out across the earth.
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blowing bubbles
cats
dresses and dancing badly
eggplant colored anything
funny faces and french
going to the movies
high expectations
ice cream
jackson 5
knots
laughing at everything
missed phone calls
newspapers
old people
polaroids
quiet in the morning
rainy days and
sunday afternoons
talking and talking and talking
umbrellas
volvos
waterfront
(e)xclamation marks!
yellow birds
zoo
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bluebirds
cardinals
flamingos
toucans
sparrows
bower birds
lyre birds
doves
pigeons
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Thinking hard about you
I got on the bus
and paid 30 cents car fare
and asked the driver for two transfers
before discovering
that I was
alone.
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