seethingblue's Diaryland Diary

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paper napkins with girls in tutus

we never look up at dinner time,

daddy clutches the remote control in one hand, a dull silver fork in the other, he clicks away past football games, toothpaste commercials, and talkshows with one hand, dismembers two string beans and a piece of roasted chicken with the other

we never look at faces at dinner time,

shoveling food into our mouths, we love food . . . and milk, milky glasses filled to the brim with the cool white thickness like glue, and dessert is fruit in crystal ashtrays- bleeding strawberries all over the glass and second helpings- no more than daddy's but enough to fill us up

and after dinner, we all sleep, one by one we drop down to the faded blue carpet, nodding off to the whirring of fan blades up above, daddy gets the recliner and his snores come from deep inside his throat

we all make peace with the food that is settling deep inside-

and everything is soft and cool again

1:55 p.m. - 2002-04-25

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