200words.

Summer comes to Greenpoint, Miller High Life, tapenade, a lazy privilege-induced haze over people crouched behind drinks or powerbooks on some rooftop at dusk. Everyone is smooth plastic pretty and smart and someone has fresh brioche and someone else has brought Hello Kitty strawberry flavored Pocky because they just couldn’t resist. Girls trade pills from the pharmacies in their messenger bags, Old Galaxie 500 and then Band Of Horses plays from battered speakers someone brought up from their kitchen, and everyone is taking a break from working on a novel or a film or the latest Puma campaign. Someone says “we’re running low on ice, guy” and someone else says “well there was nothing else to do in Helsinki,” and people are either wearing sunglasses or designer ball caps or Chuck Taylor All Stars with no socks, and it was too hot but now it’s perfect.

like lime or lemon
you put this look on my face
still can’t spit you out

in that little room at the top of the house, it was warm enough to make me sleepy. you pointed to the bruise on my knee and said, hey, that’s your submission for FALL.

i said, oh yeah. i could do that.

but does anyone want to read about a girl too tired to wake up completely, and too drunk to find the right door, who tumbled gracelessly down a flight of stairs in the middle of the night?

i mean, don’t we all have a story like that?

besides, all i can really remember is this:

i dreamt i was lost in a maze of gauzy sheets and then, the surprise of no carpet under my foot and then there was the concise pain at the back of my head when the wall stopped me at the bottom.

the other injuries weren’t found until the next day.

on the next to last plane home, we made a sharp turn during our descent. i half-dreamed that the window opened up and then the panel around it was gone and then i was falling down down down toward the green lights on the ground.

i remember thinking:
what a relief to pass the enormous spinning engine unscathed.

“Slayer”

Flash of light, fades. Alien architecture comes into focus.
Blue - gold pulsing grav-lift.
In my ear,“You’re going down, bitch.”

My intent crystallizes.

Movement, left.
Vapor trails, reload, more vapor trails.
Frag and point. Easy.
“You always start off on that side.”

Incoming vapor trail. Way off right.
Recon by assault.
Contact.
Fire exchange. Pause.
He’s standing still. Charge and jack him.
Frag and point.
“You know, you really should take cover when reloading.”
“Yeah yeah. Let’s go, bitch.”

Movement, left. Vapor trails way high.
Crouch. Wait. Indicate.
Incoming. Wait for it. Take it.
“You never saw it coming.”

Respawn. High ground. Gear up. Hunt.
Indicate - jump through the grav-lift.
Jump again. Drawing vapor trails – he can’t hit movement.
One more lift - then unload.
Frag and point.
“Hey, nice shot.”
“You didn’t move from the position you fired from. They teach you that in Green Beret school?”
“You’re such a prick.”

“30 Seconds Remaining”

Aim at the wall. Fire.
“Ha ha. What happened?”
“Thought I saw you, got excited. Shot the wall.”
“You’re slippin’!”

Wall. Fire.
“Damn”

Wall. Fire.
“Damn Damn”

“Game Over”

“1 to nothin’. I’m getting better.”
“I can tell you’ve been practicing.”

I fall down a lot. I have weak ankles, and have a tendency to drag my
feet and twist them. I’ve tried to be conscious of the problem when I
walk, but I get lost in thought a lot and forget. On more than one
instance, friends have had to assist me. Once, I was walking my dog and
talking on my cell phone when I fell, and my friend had to get in her
car and drive to where I was to pick me up because I couldn’t get home.

I have twisted my ankle so many times that it has become a bit of a
joke. I’ve never broken one, though. I’m not sure what to do except
keep on falling. My body just keeps on rebelling against me.