3 complete pieces

I: Days that fall like wandering stars.

your ashes are falling from the sky They’re periwinkle stardust, feathers
your face is growing and grime.
a big red balloon,
a duck in a pond, {sleep restless angel}
my tears are the pond
who is the duck?
my dress is moving
it’s too tight,
it’s not tight enough.
Your calling
I’m deaf I’m listening I can’t hear you I don’t want to listen.
The rain is staining my dress
your fears, because I’m too afraid to call them mine.
they’re ruining my life
they’re ruining this, our, mine and yours Paradise
---You don’t believe me
Well I don’t care
That’s a lie.
Your not reaching But It’s me right?
Why Why Why
your so tiny,
i’m smaller.
Your too big
I’m Taller,

II: Amber bath
And I’m alone again
Floating-
But this time still it’s all so new
Murky,
I float and swim in molasses,
the color of oysters, and of your eyes
I taste
it tastes of tears but they’re not mine
It smells. Amber and bonfire,
I am spinning, too fast but I like the numbness in my head It’s liberating
So why am I so terrified…

III: Where am I?
Still in the pond I float lazy legged and spinning out of control
I am muting.
The colors are turning pastels, lilies in the famous pond he painted for me
And I am vanished, somewhere,
I lost the colors and now, I am gone
I’m so scared, because I’m looking at the painting on the wall, and I can’t find my face,
Where did you go?
And I look down, and whose clothes are these? and how do they all of a sudden match,
My shoes are on the wrong feet and I can’t walk very far without falling,

I can’t breath
Who is holding me?
Trying for my safety, but my head is humming
I want to cry out but can no longer scream,
And it hurts, so bad,
This silent riot
This silent protest in my head
And now that I am with all The You’s…. don’t worry, be happy they sung
Oh G-d, I’m so alone, this wasteland where I can’t be herd.
Where know ones listening
I am cut throat, clawing, a dying in this gallery everyone looks but no one sees
and then the sounds,---they go too,
And all I see is you.
The endless parade
The endless charade of you’s
And I can no longer hear the things not said…

IV: No name

And then comes a boy, red freked, and twisted into himself
he doesn’t talk either, he is forgotten, he is no name
and I don’t think he hears,
but I think maybe, he can see…
Me?
Does he know? His eyes tortured water, drip of pain and warning,
Don’t resist Role over, play dead.
And I cry, because, that’s all I can do
Wail, Why?
I was so perfectly breakable
Why did you bring me here, to this wasteland of thought control?
Were there’s no pond
Or duck
And nothing tastes of tears…

And he wants me to stop, but I can’t help This time their mine.
And now I’m done for, because I see them coming
White coats, and stolen Halos, they come
She
She can’t be trusted,
Little girl, why can’t you just be satisfied?
And a NO finally breaks free---
from a place behind, that I did not know existed.
People staring and pointing
Some people, asleep on the floor in happy dreams stir,
And the no name has induced paralysis just looked but not of mind
I told you, restless one, you should have played dead,
now you’re gone,
they’ll take it all away now, and when you wake you won’t be the same, girl.
Then they came for me.

V: A darkness called bliss

The last thing I saw was you.
Your ashes were falling from the sky
And they were periwinkle.


Ashley Siflinger


Ashley Siflinger 2/24/10

The inside of the coffee shop was colorful, vibrant; inside people are coming and going with their daily routines. Behind the counter an older Mexican man in a green employee’s apron is running around making coffee, which he finishes and hands to a small woman. A tall thirty- something approaches the counter.
“Hey Chris, the usual eh?” said the man behind the counter his lips pulling back into a wide easy grin.
“You know it buddy” Chris said as he reached into his wallet. Smiling, the man went to the coffee maker.
“You know man, one day I know you’re gonna come in here and order something different,” said the man, returning with the coffee.
“I don’t know Eddie maybe”
“Well, come on man, what about today. Can I interest you in something sweet to brighten up your Valentine’s day?” said Eddie playfully gesturing to the case, displacing, pink frosted cupcakes and red, heart-shaped cookies.
“Tempting, but my Valentines Day doesn’t need any brightening,”
“Now why don’t I believe you?”
“Its’ true man, I might be getting that promotion today.”
“Don’t you like, already own the company?”
“Almost man, almost, all in good time.”
“Well when you own half of Los Angles I better get like a Christmas tip at least”
“If I get the company, ill by you a car” Chris says Chuckling.
Eddies thick eyebrows shoot up in disbelief, “Is that so” Eddie says mockingly.
“Swear on my life.” Eddie says grinnig.
“Alright, we have a deal.” Eddie says, chuckling. Chris is about to leave when Eddie grabs his arm to stop him.
“But come on you know that’s not what I mean…” Chris sighs, he’s heard this all before, from his sister, from his aunts, from his mother. Vividly, he remembers the conversation he had on the phone with his mother yesterday, and especially her response to him working late on Valentines Day.
“Why can’t you be like your cousin Joey? the boys younger than you and already married, and hes given your auntie Mae three grandbabies. Comon Chrisy When are you gonna make me a proud mamma? You find yourself a nice, decent girl, not like that tramp Candy-”
“Mom…”Chris sighs
“Ill rephrase, that Woman with promiscuous tendencies…”
“ Mom, Candy was not promiscuous…”
“Honey, who wears shorts, to Vermont in the winter? its simply not becoming..”
“Okay I get it mom but …”
“And that red dress, she almost gave your uncle Herman a stroke, Do you want to give Herman a stroke?’
“No Mom, but…”
“Then shhh… both you and I know this has nothing to do with Candy, what I’m trying to say is that you work all day and night in that office, and for what? For who? You already made your fortune, but now you have to find someone to share it with”….Shaking his head to clear the memory, Chris tells Eddie, what he couldn’t tell his mother.
“Valentines Day is just another meaningless holiday, like groundhogs day, or boxing day…. Ooooh” Chris said taking a sip of his coffee. “Now that my friend is true love, no seriously that’s good stuff, you keep making coffee like this and I might just buy you a house.” Taking another sip “mmmm. On the beach, with a view…” But Eddie was still staring at him.
“Oh common man” Chris reasoned. “Valentines Day is just a day women invented, as an excuse for men to buy them jewelry and chocolates and lingerie, so that they can convince themselves that their men are in love with them or at the very least being monogamous.”
“No, you see you got it all wrong,” Said a voice from behind Chris, who turned around to see a tall blond woman in a pencil skit snake around him and approach the counter. “Women, despite the contrary belief, are not that delusional....Ill take the usual Eddie and one of those.” She said pointing to a pink frosted cupcake in the window. Now turning back to face Chris, who stood their dumbstruck. “No, you see, Valentines Day, was invented by a bunch of men of average to less than average attractiveness, in order to get their wife’s, girlfriends or mistresses, to sleep with them.” Eddie handed the woman a small latte and her cupcake, which she accepted and the reached into her bag to pay. Over her shoulder Chris mouthed to Eddie, you know her. Eddie smiled and nodded, and then raising his brows, he gestured to Chris then the woman then back to Chris mouthing she’s single.
The woman took a sip of her latte, “The plan, of course, backfired, because as you mentioned, Valentine’s Day has become less about the bang, and more about the buck.”
“Well said” Said Chris, regaining his footing and raising his coffee in mock toast to the woman.”But it’s not every day I meet cynics eating pink cupcakes.” The woman who was beginning to walk away stops and turns back to Chris.
“I’m not a cynic, I’m a realist.”
“ Only hopeless romantics eat pink cupcakes.”
“What are you a physiatrist now?”
“Something like that” Chris says smiling and walking up to her
“Tell me Doc, how do even know the cupcakes for me?”
“Because I know you better than you think.”
“Really.” The woman said in disbelief as they began to walk to the door.
“Well, woman like you, that is, I’ve dated in the professional world for years…don’t worry I know your type.”Chris says.
“Really, and what’s my type?” The woman said, hiding how offended she was getting.”
Putting his hands up in mock surrender Chris says “let’s just say that that cupcake is for you…” Snaking around the woman and blocking the exit, Chris says “But tell me Miss Cynic, who’s the lip gloss for?” A faint blush appeared across the woman’s cheek, she sidestepped the man, almost at the door when he reached out her grabbed her arm, leaning down, he whispered in her ear,” Don’t worry Miss Cynic, you secrets safe with me.” The woman was half-way out the door when she turned back around
“What was her name…” she asked
“Who?”
“The one…you know the one who made you like this.”
“I…”
The woman was still halfway out the door she held open, sunlight streaming down on her hair, yellow hair, pulled back tight. She nodded to herself.
“Mine was Greg, Gregory.” She smiled an ancient smile, one of picnics, and sunsets and lighter days. “He died” she said looking down at her cupcake “a year ago in a car accident.” She looked back up at Chris, the smile gone now, she continued to stare at him, she looked down again and then back up at him, her mask firmly in place now, she turned on her heal and was about to walk out the door when she heard Chris faintly from behind her.
“Gloria.” He cleared his throat. “Her name was Gloria.”
The woman turned around to face Chris the ghost of the ancient smile dancing somewhere behind her eyes as she slowly turned her back on the man and walked out of the little coffee shop and back into the crowded street of L.A. And she didn’t know it, but that day, everyone on the sidewalk and everyone on sidewalks and coffee shops around the world will think about their long lost Gregory, or their long lost Gloria, and they will smile an ancient smile of picnics, of long walks, of rock concerts, of stolen hours, of whispered promises, and of sunsets. They will smile a smile of lighter days.


Ashley Siflinger 3/17/10


Brandon was nervous, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He never did things like this. And by things I mean go on blind dates with girls he barely new. Come to think of it, Brandon had not been on a date for over two years, he hadn’t been to a bar, a club, anywhere since Laura died. And not because he didn’t want to go out, didn’t want to date, he did, desperately, but he just didn’t have the time. Ever since the accident, ever since Laura died, he had been left to take care of their son, their little boy, Jake who was diagnosed with autism at 22 months. And they survived, somehow, the three of them, even if Laura had to quite her day job to take care of him, the job she loved, that one that made her face light up every time she talked about it. But they made it through things together, until Laura died. With her gone it was like the cement of the house was gone, the glue that held every thing together was gone, and Brandon was left picking up the pieces of what his life had been. And now suddenly, he found himself sitting on the girls couch…Jane’s couch, while she was in the kitchen making tea. Was this a mistake? He thought, should I have not come up for a drink? Brandon quickly scanned through the evening in his mind. Dinner had been fine; they had gone to the small Italian restaurant around the corner, and they had a nice easy conversation about work, about the economy…but not about Laura, and defiantly not about Jake, not yet at least. He tried to remember what Jane had said… she said she had liked her job, that she was a secretary, that she got paid well… and she was a republican, and then she had asked Brandon were he stood on politics, but he had replied curtly that he was not interested in politics. It was easier that way, less painful then telling this girl his story. The story of how he had grown up in a conservative home, and never really thought about politics, he just sort of was a republican because his parents were. Until Laura, a liberal world wind marching the streets in protest in a pair of doc martens. Brandon was walking to school; he going t Columbia at the time, when he had seen her, marching with other protesters, in front of a government office. She was pale, fragile, skinny, looking at her you would never know she could get so loud, so angry. She screamed, throwing her fists in he air, and then grabbed the megaphone out of a mans hand, screaming an anti-war chant. And Brandon stood their, his polo and crew cut watching her, amazed. And by next week, he had been standing by her side; arm and arm at a similar protest screaming of government corruption… but Brandon shook that memory out of his head, and focused on the little blond in the kitchen making Coffee. Brandon considered Jane; she was sweet, and cute, and nice… but soft, breakable, nothing at all like Laura. despite her fragile appearance Brandon had only seen Laura cry once, when Jake had been diagnosed, it had been terrifying, like the sky was falling, she had broke down in his arms on the bathroom floor, she sobbed, wailed, her tiny little features becoming distorted, she cried until she fell asleep their in his arms on the bathroom tile, and Brandon sat their, holding her up, feeling like his world, no the whole world was ending, and he could only watch, powerless to stop it.
“Would you like some tea?” the girl called over her shoulder from the kitchen, breaking Brandon’s train of thought.“I would. Thank you.” He replied. “Careful. It’s hot.” She said returning with two cups of steaming tea. “I usually prefer iced tea.” Brandon admitted. Thinking of their honeymoon, thinking of Jamaican iced Tea, the one they brought a case home to the states. “Mmm. I don’t have any.”“Maybe I can put ice in this tea.” Brandon suggested hopefully. “But that’s what I’m saying—I don’t have any cubes.”
“Oh” Brandon said looking down, he meet Laura’s eyes, sweet, unbroken, she deserved someone whole, not a shell of a man, a shadow of what he used to be, of what could have been. He grabbed his Blazer and stood up. He bent down and kissed the top of the girls head. “Sorry.” He said before leaving.