11

you let me cross you let me 

dress i let you 

down  

#katyamills

JANUARY 9, 1997

thin as a grain of wheat
rarely uprooted from his chair
black cat at his feet
waiting for the next meal
the next dream

traded freedom to his granddaughter
so he wouldn't have to live in a home

eyes red around the rim
voice deep within the throat
bones coated with dust like the painting
of his long since passed wife
hanging on the wall behind him

six foot three he can still
touch the sky
i used to jitterbug he says
and smiles. heart following memory
up the gulf coast
across the panhandle
all the way back to California

when he's upset
sometimes he swears (the gravel
spitting off his thunder)
GIVE ME THE KEYS! i'll drive there my
damn self i will!
alone? she questions, eyes bulging
ALONE!

and i
i believe him
you better hide those keys
tonight


#katyamills
remix 1997

metal flower morning

she was a barista. my friend
gettin people high on stiff colombian shots!
she remarked

a cafe bar in a hotel
little round marble
tables. guys (and girls) feigned to read
watching her change money
serve drinks

looking around
thinking everyday thoughts i
waited for her to get off shift

listened to the steam
scream through silver
stems

metal flowers

how could anyone ever
kill themselves? i overheard
a woman say to her husband
behind a newspaper

what with the wonder
of the world i don't know

they can and
they do lady they can
and they do

shuffling cards laughing
looking and being looked upon
exchanging cash and feelings
young Americans

we had it good
we did

metal flowers
screamed across the tissue
smoking would kill us all
if we wanted to
so bad



#katyamills
remix 1998

Tampa, Florida. 1997

narrow dirt roads for legs
two moons for eyes she
was once that kid on a
milk carton

did not want to be found

twelve years later watching x
files smoking weed helps

the pain she
cares for her grandfather
and her son

they're both handfuls

grandfather drinks and smokes
like he's half his age
boy cries and throws tantrums like
he's half his and he's
ten

she loves them without
conditions

i want to be around people
who give me energy
she shouts (competing with the
swamp cooler) not
take it

thick gravel roads for legs
half moons for eyes she
hasn't changed



#katyamills
remix'97

the traveler. 1997

life changed i

became
free of walk and free
of talk

those i loved
who had loved me
vanished

a sunny room
i watch you start in on
your meal

a couch under a modest chandelier
time passes
a soft spot where my voice
had been

ceramic plate
eggs and a spot of ketchup
a silver fork and listen!
do not speak!

contractions expansions the hands
climbing circles round
a face

you cannot
this cannot be
real

pots and pans brimming
with soap. good god
are we?

good god! i am
alive

#katyamills
1997

type.writer (archive #K) -ii

We rented a small house on the Gulf of Mexico
for 800 bucks a month
me and my friend
we got lucky

I must have typed 500 pages that year
on my little drab postbellum s.corona
to the rhythms of tide
and jazz...