Chainsaw Diamonds
Yeah, you saw her melt,
Lava, hidden hot stealth.
Her desire to lick lead,
Never hearing, he said…
Yeah, you saw her melt,
Emotions told, not felt,
Halos all around to hide
Her flesh, it sank inside.
Yeah, you saw her melt,
And by cards she dealt.
Mirage until implosion,
To ash…
A volcano’s explosion.
Does destiny ever lie?
Or is a body an alibi?
The wind blew through the branches of the slumbering trees, picking up snow from their branches and throwing it down at the protestors below. There weren’t many, but they wore giant coats from Old Navy, puffy when most were already fat.
Written on their signs was, “Down with the Patriarchy: Enough, be Tough.” Perhaps the season insinuated that, being bitter itself at the tilt of the Earth. It seems as though both animate and inanimate objects complained when the rain came their way.
“We are sisters. We are mothers. We give life. No longer are we queens of the kitchen. We are royalty beyond compare.” The chant went on with the women spitting into the wind that was against them. Many thought the world was against them with all of the attention they got.
A small woman put her hoodie on to protect her head. Under it, a long flow of blonde hair and streaks of grey interfered with the zipper. After sorting things out, she began chanting with the woman who knew her as, “Pat.”
At the moment, Pat wore a dog collar around her neck. Her leash was by her side while her sign read, “Too Good for a Man’s Bed.” It had been eons since she slept with a man. She found them to be the lower gender, perhaps the lower race, plebians. She dreamed of one day getting even with them for all they had done to her and the world.
“It’s a womban’s world,” she cried out with the rest of them. They huddled closer and closer. The people who passed by paid them little mind. One man did yell, “Dikes,” however, before disappearing back into the trail of a stranger.
Pat rolled her eyes at them. Men… they thought they were everything, the butter, and bread of the world. Since a child, she’d tracked animals and killed them, she knew which mushrooms to eat, which berries had the most worms. She could survive.
Her father stayed away most of the time growing up, a frickin’ lunatic who talked endlessly about his imaginary accomplishments and gutter women, the ones he abused. The green ink was tattooed all over on him, his muscular arms that beat her mother. Pat told herself that wasn’t the only reason she hated men. She hated how they always assumed dominance, always wanted a dainty little wife to take care of them and pop out children who would be second birth bastards after a divorce a few years later after the skin wrinkled and the fat attached itself to the body.
“Ladies, we’ve had a productive day. I think it's time to go to the coffee shop and warm our bones. I’m freezing.” Lisa said that, the leader with raven dark hair and craggy skin.
Pat selected green tea at the coffee shop. She sat next to Willow, one of the most beautiful women she’d ever seen. Willow had long red hair, a few freckles, and bright blue eyes the color of a happy sky. Many of the ladies knew that Willow simply want to indulge in salaciousness. The men hit on her, forgiving the fact she was a lesbian, trying to say they’d convert her. “Give us one night, give us one night.” Will laughed at them, threw her hair back, and would say, “A man is a dick. A woman is a rose.” People in polite society would turn toward the conversation, not sure what to do. Strangers go away at least, many thought.
“So, Willow, who is the lucky girl?”
“Tina, a nurse from up the street. We’re getting serious.”
“That’s the third time this month that you’ve changed partners.”
“I know, but I’m a buffet kind of gal. I like the pussy nice and moist as my lips curve to inner commands.” She licked her lips as Pat changed the conversation.
“I’m going to volunteer at the library, I think. Since my uncle died, I’ve had some funds. I feel like finding myself, you know?”
“But you’re right here,” Willow replied.
“Yeah, I guess, but I could be elsewhere,” Pat said.
“Elsewhere, what, are you going to go quantum on me, talk about other universes, other planets? That’s cool.”
“Think of it as missing body parts. I’m not whole.”
“But you have a hole, hehe, two of them and a mouth.” Willow licked her lips again.
“Well, I should be going. They say the winter storm is getting worse.” Any excuse…
Pat walked on top of the ice. She said a few prayers. Lord, let me make it, and I swear I’ll go to a least one church cession.
The ice crept up all around her with a thin layer of white snow in some areas. She slid and caught herself. She threw the sign she’d been holding into the dumpster, but she kept the leash on, forgetting it was there, unfortunately.
“Shit!” she said. “The bush got the leash.” She fell backward and caught her hair in the brittle, icicle latent shrub. Cussing worse than a fifty-five-year-old in the mirror and seeing time, she noticed a car pull up.
The vehicle was a black Mercedes. She sighed, tangled and irritated.
“A tall man got out of the vehicle. He had a ponytail of blonde trailing down his back. He put on his gloves and shut the door.
“Excuse me, ma’am, would you like some help?”
“Yes,” Pat said reluctantly. She wished she could fold her arms. This guy was a rich guy, the worst kind. She was sure he had a playhouse of hookers and went to fancy dinners in hotels while people starved, while women suffered from an abusive husband.
The strange man, his eyes emerald, looked into hers, and she felt a pull in her spine but quickly dismissed it. She stood up once the leash was free. She took it off her head and into her oversized purse.
“Ma’am?” he asked, “Why are you wearing a leash. Sorry, but I’m curious.”
“Because that’s what the Patriarchy does to women.”
“Oh, excuse me,” he said, smiling with the whitest teeth possible. “Well, I think I’ll cure the ills I’ve inflicted on the world by driving you home. The storm is getting worse.”
Once again, Pat sighed and crawled into his leather seats.
“Thanks,” Pat said.
“No problem. I guess we men have some use.”
‘Very little,” Pat said angrily. She was mad at her blush and the fact she found the man to be handsome.
“My name is Andy, by the way. I am in this city on a business trip. It’s basically where a bunch of us evil rich people sit around and drink overpriced drinks and are fooled into buying a tray of carved eggs and salmon, talking for five hours. It’s mostly to weed out the drunks and con artists.”
“I’m Pat. Do you always talk about yourself?” Pat asked. Andy was taken aback, slightly offended by his face, but he sucked the emotion in.
“Well, let’s talk about you. What do you do for a living?”
“I suck your tax dollars. I have seasonal depression badly, trauma, plus, I have borderline personality disorder. I’m a piece of work, but it can be fun.”
“At least you employ people. I knew a borderline woman once. She was a bitch, always going to weasel world in the company and demanding therapy. She also sued for sexual harassment, don’t know what happened to her, honestly. Some people stay in their heads too much, I think. They get lost in them,” Andy said.
“I’m not lost!” Pat was annoyed. She pointed to the direction that Andy needed to turn. They’d be together for five more minutes. But she liked him. She could feel it all over her body. He was the type of guy who never got angry, the car was so nice, and she wanted to say more but couldn’t.
Men have cooties. The thought popped up in her brain, causing a giggle in her brain. She shut it off and looked out the window where the sleet had taken over the snow. She wouldn’t have made it home without him. What a strange feeling. She liked it.
Andy turned into the old, broken-down apartment complex, blue and black. The name was missing the H in House Land. It turned into Ouse Land.
“This is it. Well, it was nice meeting you, Pat.”
Pat didn’t want to leave the vehicle. For the first time feelings were struggling inside of her. Not knowing what to do, she did the deadliest thing possible.
“Do you want to go to the coffee shop on Saturday?”
“Well, well, not mad at the patriarchy?” Pat was offended. Inside she felt like breaking
And screaming. “Also, I”m married. Got to go to the dinner of fire soon. Good luck with your headspace.” Andy smiled.
Pat ran into her apartment and threw a chair. Sinking to the floor, she grabbed her head then looked at the old mirror she had propped up in the corner. She had wrinkles, a cheap coat, and grey hair.
I’ve wasted my life, she thought. I can’t undo this.
I’ll tell you that I am a countrywoman, born and raised in the middle of nowhere. However, it isn’t ‘nowhere’ to me. I grew up here with the rocks, the trees, the sun. You know, pretty much all you need to have a happy life. People from the city are often depressed. Everyone’s honking, running, while the time clicks and tocks away. Some people aren’t even alive anymore, turned to zombies for life.
My mother told me there isn’t any use in living in the city. People murder each other, the lights never go out, so you can’t see the magnificent stars above, the ones in the milky way especially. City life is akin to existing in another dimension of touch, taste, sight, space, and smell.
But there is danger, hidden danger. I’ll tell you the truth about last summer.
Rob was a talented boy able to catch many fish, and this made his father proud. His mother stayed on the shore, letting the men bond, even though Rob was only eleven. Still, she felt he ought to do activities with his father to grow up right.
Rob’s mother always said, “I’ll do as right as I can.” And she did near a damn good job.
“So, how many fish is that son?”
“Five, but none of were keepers. Dad, I don’t get it. Usually, I have a lucky strike here close to the dam.” Rob’s face flashed with disappointment.
“Well, son, you’ll learn in life that much disappoints a man from siblings, to family, to friends. You’ve got to learn how to take the punches and blows. That’s what makes a man,” Rob’s dad said.
Rob’s dad or Ronald felt sad that day anyhow. They didn’t have much money in the bank and their trailer would be taken from them. Then they’d have to move, go somewhere more expensive so that he could work thankless jobs. He enjoyed the outdoors, being close to nature, finding jobs where he could, at the dock, at the stables, washing cars, but none of this amassed to being able to afford the medical bills his wife suffered. Already, the tumor grew inside of her head, eating pushing aside the healthy tissue for its own agenda.
“How about we go swimming instead, dad?” Rob asked.
“That sounds nice. It’s deep here, so you’re going to have to wear a life-jacket. You know how easy it is to get choked and stuck in the lake’s belly forever. Haven’t you heard about all the children who have gone missing around here lately? They didn’t wear their life-jackets.”
“But dad…”
“I don’t care about your butt,” his dad said.
The two of them donned life-jackets and began to swim.
“I’m not a child, you know, dad?”
“You won’t be so for long. You were out of diapers just yesterday.”
“Dad, can I please take this life-jacket off? The other kids must have been super skinny. I work out with you, after all,” Rob said.
“I guess, but don’t you end up like the other kids,” his father said.
“I won’t.” His dad felt a sense of pride about his fit body. What could happen? Dad would protect him.
They talked about this and that, avoiding the topic of Rob’s mother. The pain crushed Ronald the most. He’d loved her since eighth grade. Even when they were kids, they were married.
All of a sudden Ron felt a pull on his foot, he snapped back and swam away.
“Son, what’s wrong with you?” his father asked.
“Some fish grabbed at my foot. It’s nothing.” Rob was about thirty feet away from his father. He started to make his way back, wanting a pop from the cooler.
The pull grabbed his legs, and he went under for a minute.
“DAD! HELP!” He screamed. His dad swam as quickly as he could. His son breached the water over and over, but his arms weren’t strong enough, and he went under one final time. Ronald could hear his wife screaming from the shore.
He opened his eyes wide and went under the surface. What he saw bothers him until this day.
A catfish.
Not just a catfish.
An eight-foot-long catfish. His son's white abdomen was all he saw. The catfish took his son deep into the water where he wouldn’t be seen again.
His father came to the surface, his eyes filled with tears hidden in lake water.
A catfish, slimy, mean creature.
The community called him, “Bubba.” Bubba took many more that summer.
The strangest thing occurred.
"Bubba! Come out wherever you are,” Ronald screamed, as he turned in his sleep.
Eventually, Smokey appeared in his vision. Ronald swam to him before another catfish caught his leg.
“Why, why, did you eat my son, you slimy, worthless creature?”
“I say that to you. You prey upon us, so why can’t we prey upon you?”
“My son…”
‘Our progeny…” All of the children’s heads popped up to the surface and sang out to Ronaldo, “What a day when we play. And you, you, must pay!”
Ronald heard a familiar voice, “Rob!”
“Bubba is my daddy now.”
Ronald woke up and snapped his fishing line in two, threw out his bait, got rid of all hooks and bobs, and then jumped into the lake.
Sparked eyes,
Her life’s oceans,
Held within them
Ultimate love.
Sky’s graces matched,
Lights, the sun held
Each of us in turn,
Rocked above troubles.
Open fire, marshmallows…
Above, the milky way,
Bed of a truck, the moon.
We laughed, dancing
As children, stealing
Kisses from eternity.
That is her gift.
Minds, we remember
reaching waves give, take,
Her time, our compass,
If we ever lose our way.
She is at the top of the Hill,
And it’s time for dinner.
When I arrived at the table with my best friend, Liz, I told her the gossip. I’d had the most unusual event happen to me the day prior. I couldn’t wait to share. We talked small at first, growing into bigger topics.
“So you’re telling me this guy had several doubles that you like?” Liz said. “That doesn’t sound like a guy you want to mess with, not even with your oblivious senses.”
“He’s not a spy,” I said.
“How would you know? What is he? They pretend to be so many people. Just because
you saw some show with him on it.”
“No, I wouldn’t get involved with a spy. They make terrible husbands anyway, always gone, in constant danger, worried late nights with a tissue box, the fear of the kids overhearing the wrong words and being shot. I have arrived at a conundrum, however,” I said.
“And what cockeyed dimple from a smiling fool has brought you to this ‘conundrum”’ Liz asked. She smoothed out her long blonde hair that went almost to her waist, at least a three-hundred dollar wig. Her petite nose brought more attention to her emerald eyes and pinched pink cheeks.
“Let’s say the double asks you on a date, but you want the original, or perhaps the unoriginal man, or whoever, the love at first sight.”
“And why would you want the original?” Liz asked. She giggled and moist drops accented her purple lips, always a character. I guessed she found my problem comical.
“Maybe I read his book somewhere, or maybe I like what he majored in, or maybe…”
“You’re a gold-digging whore who wants to make it big, escape your class? You wouldn’t be the first on the cherry-picking ladder.”
“Hey, now, Liz, you’re with a lawyer at the moment,” I reminded her in a sour tone.
“Ladies gotta lie,” Liz said, “Anything you say can be held against you in a court o fo law–
Women judge their gossip.”
I rolled my eyes.
“That isn’t the reason I want the original,” I said, “Or the unoriginal or whatever. He looks
so badass in that all-black hoodie outfit on the cover of the magazine. I like his smile, too, like mocking me and eating me. There’s only one major feature that changes, his nose. Sometimes his nose is small. Sometimes, it is large. Sometimes, it changes shape. I’ve narrowed the two I want down to the nose. One is a big crescent moon, and the other is small and shapely with those eyes piercing into your soul, taking it into his mind.”
“The eyes aren’t the nose or the smile,” Liz told me.
“One looks soft and gentle, and the other one looks tough and fierce,” I said.
“Who has the bigger bank account?”
“LIZ MARLEWORTH!”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she pleaded and then sighed.
There was a moment of silence.
“So which one did you pick?”
“The richest one so that I can torment you!,” I roared.
Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. We’d been talking too loudly. A man came and looked at me with those black eyes. I kept my mouth shut and tried to calm my heart down.
“Well, ladies, are you missing something?”
What was he doing here?
“I wanted to give this back to you.” The man handed me my passport, smiled, and then took an attractive, tall redhead, and they walked away, laughing.
Too bad I couldn’t leave the moment on a plane to "Paper Bag Town."
