pt. IV: Praying

she lifts herself with elegance. fingers roll like waves. a shadow slinking under covers. her mouth, her throat, a tunnel to a gathering. a sinister congregation. an awkward mass.
whispering a prayer for the mouth.
a prayer for all her guests and the airplanes and the tunnels that get them where they need to be!
then they say a prayer to me. to me!
a prayer of thanks for bringing them all together.

A Dec. 25th Play

Santa: My name is Santa, and I'm an American.

Boy: that's obviously a pillow stuck underneath your shirt. And santa doesn't have a goatee.

Santa: Well! Someone is getting coal in their stocking this year!

Boy: If you come near me I'll fucking kill you.

THE END

THE DAY pt.1: Waking

he was a mean guy. hands like stainless steel salad tongs. chemicals pumped through a fleshy vent. a reaction to fear. tightly packed white hair.
-i want to talk like everyone else-
he sweats telegraphically. i tap out a murder. i will be here forever. stranded in this showdown.
back to the action.
he is shaking his finger. fingers. fingers clenched around a fleshy vent. chemicals spill and burn through a glass tabletop. insects wade through puddles of discharge. hands on tightly clenched cheekbones.
a smile fades.
i'm awake.