Ian Philpot

She flutter blinked in foreign languages declaring

her false sense of self-purpose. There is no plan, only

train schedules and promiscuously stamped passports.

A nauseous crush left her in the airplane bathroom

long before the bomb threat prayed. Lola loves

alliteration and the Uzbek language. Her unfinished

love in Kitob. Garbage City with its satisfied  sorter

civilians, and the wedding invitation initiated by

Egyptians. “That’s hospitality” she says as she sips

her coffee. Her clothes and hair smell of smoke

with the passing seconds, replacing Herbal Esence

with carbon monoxide. She’s afraid of the pain

from her peace tattoo and has already begun

pseudonyms for her job with the NSA someday.

Laura Paul. She’s not tied down to her soft spot

for the Puerto Rican boy at her work for a business

casual empire, but she’d love to like him. She

brushes her hair while reading magazines offering

make-up tips she may never experiment on her

Irish eyes, but she’d love to start hobbies that leave

her fingers skin alone. Prone to purple purses she

drags with her to the city that she breathes in her

lungs and loves the fumes of public transport. She

dons the Kansas City Chiefs sweatshirt that she

got from herself-sufficient mother for Christmas.

She likens her quarter-life crisis to cleansing

products. She’s stuck with the offer to teach English

in Korea with hopes to let her feelings slip away

again. But what right does she have to rid herself

of personal obligation for interests purely her own?

Lola loves the allure but never stops running

She never stops.  

Fire and Ice

 
Some say the world will end in fire; 
Some say in ice. 
From what I've tasted of desire 
I hold with those who favor fire. 
But if it had to perish twice, 
I think I know enough of hate 
To know that for destruction ice 
Is also great 
And would suffice.

                                       by Robert Frost

Let's go to war
To make peace
Let's be cold
To create heat
I hope in darkness
We can see
And you're not blinded
By the light from me...(c)

Where you store all anger and happiness and pain

But it's worth it, I love the thrill...(c)

Я сумашедшая... если я вижу что девушка смотрит на тебя мне хочеться выцарапать ей глаза.(с)