Half and Half

April 11, 2012 § Leave a comment

My favorite thing is seedless melon. It’s like cherry coke in a glass; it’s like a cigarette butt still burning in the ashtray, like mom and dad fighting with the doors closed.

Plugging the mouth shut with a slice just as wide, I get my incisors to stick while the juices flow into the throat. What a treat it is to not have to feel around for seeds, to not swipe the tongue from side to side, moving saliva, diluting the sugars.

Deep breath, and plug.

Shut your mouth when you chew. Reprimanded through sheet rock and asbestos, my mom has the hearing of a tiger. She can hear me when I’m collecting seeds underneath my tongue. She’s purring on the bathroom floor, painting her toenails red.

My dad doesn’t say much because he still chews with his mouth open. I am a lot like him and people notice that. It is not just in my nose, either. Me and him, we have a strong bridge, but my mom’s nose is soft and comes out of her face gradually like a buoy surfacing water. I imagine myself with her nose: I push my nose cartilage down but instead of submerging into my face, it does nothing. Instead of moving with the height of the wave, it juts. It always juts.

What are you, anyway? It would take fewer words if my face were more discernible.

It would take fewer muscles to chew a seedless melon. I could do it lying down.

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