Death watches me from the corner of my room
Curled up in one of
those round mattress chairs
Her thin arms reach to me sometimes
I always think she wants to
take me
But all she ever wants is another cup of tea
I make soothing tea for her
My step mother taught me the recipe
to help with colds,
But I use it for everything
I think
it's the cayenne pepper
That gives it enough spice
I look at her when she sleeps
Which is seldom
Her
eyelashes curl upwards
She looks very calm when she is asleep
I have an eyelash curler
Sometimes, when I don't pay
attention
I pinch my eyelash in the clamps
And my eyes
water
Which makes it hard to put mascara on
She's the only person that I let smoke in my room
I assume
that she needs it
When all the happiness that she witnesses
Is
in spite of her
And she sees a lot of happiness here
I have a
lot of it
So I let her smoke
Because I'm not concerned about
her health
I heard a little while ago
That cigarette filters have shards
of fiberglass
That shoot into your throat and make it easier to
absorb nicotine
I told death this
She shook her head and laughed.
It
was not a happy laugh
She continued to smile at me, hazy
It
must be strange
I wonder if
She fears herself
I wonder about her past
And her feelings
About what
she's seen and how she can just sit there
In my comfy chair
That's probably why she can just sit there, though
Why do anything
else
When everything ends in you
We got drunk once.
Well, I was drunk
She was
"relaxed"
She told me there was a pincushion inside her diaphram
When I asked what the hell she was talking about
She shook her
head
And gave me that smile again
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