Note From My Moleskine #13

August 31, 2009

17 August 2009
Owl’s Head, ME

The woman’s floppy, stupid-
looking hat accentuates her
as she death-kites
clomping from tidepool to
searching through her
Gilliganism for a memory of
a kite that doesn’t kill
She saws her kite
back and forth
gaining speed as the kite-
teeth slash and wail
at items and people worth
hundreds of points at a
glancing blow
She has already crushed the
high score, her initials burned
into the sky next to an
exponentially rising score and
above those of the former
champ, “DP 4 LF.”
Blood flows into the sea
in velvet rivers, makes a
pink foamy brine around her ankles.
She cannot believe how easy
it is to kill with this kite.
She swoops it down and to
the left and cuts the legs
off an entire Boys and Girls’
Club barbecue. 12,500 points.
She swings it up through
the cloud of ponytails and
hot dog buns and debrains
King Tut, two giraffes, and
a team of ox-drivers.
8 million points. A hundred
people die just looking at
her. 400,000 points.
“I have never once enjoyed
DP,” she thinks. “It always
seemed so gay to me.”
Her wrinkled fingers twirl the
kite-strings, which leave
purple, painful channels
pressed into her skin
like an evil child’s geometry


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