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AnaphoraI am from unanswered letters and retro postcards tucked into a hollow book. I am from clacking copy machines beaming white light and stagnant, chalky air. I am from soundproof recording rooms. I am from oven-baked toast dusted with cinnamon; from bergamot and earl grey; from German chocolate that I never eat. I am from dead leaves on campus walks and words of encouragement given on the corner of “you deserve it” and “I’m proud of you.” I am from stained dry-erase boards. I am from mountains of colors and valleys of fog. I am from strands of unworn necklaces and earrings I’m allergic to and rings too small for my fingers. I am from blue ink splotches on essays. I am from unstable brick pathways; broken elevators; distant parking lots; clouded windows. I am from frantic typing and nearly-missed deadlines.
Are you tired of Conversations with Doc yet?i.
"I thought I made a mistake once, but I was mistaken."
"You've used that one before."
"I have? Damn."
"I'm not that fast."
"No you're fast. I'm older, more experienced, SMARTER - and you still beat me in our marathons."
"You're so humble, Doc. Humility is truly your greatest virtue."
"You can be Data."
"Why do I have to be Data?"
"You don't want to be Data? How about the doctor?"
"No, I don't like blood."
"It's the future. They don't have blood, everything is done by machines."
"How about the empath?"
"What? You don't want to be the empath?"
"NO, that would be terrible!"
"Well, then you're Data."
"Okay. And you are?..."
"I'm the empath."
"Well, you are my part-time counselor."
"I AM the empath!"
"Yeah, you're even getting paid for it."
"I've already heard mine."
"I want to hear it. I want to hear it with you. I want to have that symbiotic moment."
"You pulled a face like you were in
PuddlesIt was raining so hard that all I could see was the yellow shine of his galoshes. When he crossed the puddle on Rosenberg, it swallowed him whole. I banged on the window and managed to get my raincoat on before Mom took it away.
The puddle was gone tomorrow morning. I took the galoshes.
MondaysI don’t like coffee. Too bitter. I always end up with a cupful of cream and a drop of java buried underneath the fluff. Doesn’t keep me from ordering a mug every morning – gotta keep your hands from freezing, ya know? The cute barista smiling behind the counter keeps the rest of my extremities warm.
Nicknamesi. Brevity Girl
and her hero, Postcard Man,
write radio spots that channel dead lives
to distracted ears.
These are their superpowers:
Brevity Girl finds power in paradox,
and says most with least.
Postcard Man is a writing machine,
a work horse with tireless enthusiasm
and infinite patience for the sidekick who can’t keep up.
ii. The Queen of Snark
Queen Snark graces few with her presence.
Like any proper queen,
she doesn’t mingle with the riffraff
proffering too big smiles and weak handshakes.
Queen Snark is a meteorologist sensitive to rain,
who keeps an umbrella handy
when the mood is too dark for sarcasm.
iii. Logic Girl
Logic Girl knows her way around a story,
picks her way over plot holes and inconsistencies,
takes directions from characters,
charts maps over foreign words and strange topographies.
Logic Girl likes clarity, but not transparency;
puzzles with answers, not answers lacking puzzles.
ContactIt’s too brief to be a proper memory
but I remember it all the same –
me, standing, hands resting on a chair;
you, bustling about the room
just behind me,
a brief hand against the concave of my backside,
and you’re out the door.
NotchesThere is a tree as old as me in
the midnight garden.
There’s no sound but the wind
and fingerprints of rain
drumming a thousand dreams
against my window.
My hair is growing long.
I left myself behind
on the growth chart carved
into each notch of the trunk,
leaving just a memory
running through April avenue.
Red Riding HoodI want to believe people so badly when they say they won’t bite
that I contemplate climbing into their smiling jaws
thinking that it might be better to be split in two than left hanging.
But always, I draw my red hood and flit back into the forest
running in the shadows of pathways, never stepping into clearings
because I’ve spent my whole life in the wilderness
and I still can’t tell the wolves from the woodsmen.
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Endorell-Taelos is very well known within the community for her selfless giving and gracious community spirit. Since joining DeviantART over seven years ago, Alicia has continued to make a positive impact on many deviants. Her helpful and thoughtful approach was one of her finest attributes when serving as a Community Volunteer, and this has continued throughout the many contests which Alicia provides on a regular basis. As we approach our Birthday celebrations, we can't... Read More