Fluorescence and a Bad Back

Fluorescence and a Bad Back
by Tina Weber
getting paid less to do more and being slowed down by maybes. the cheap idea from nine to six and the cloudy windows on a dirty alley. above the knee skirts whizz past covered toes and damp umbrellas. floor. sick dogs being walked by jamaican immigrants while children pick noses and count one-two-three. on tuesday we wish for friday and every day thereafter. saturday brings smiles and the promise of rest and hangovers while marines cum inside hippie girls with whiskey flavored breath. what’s in a secret handshake besides hands and secrets? we may never know unlike the bowel movements of television superheroes and domestic goddesses broadcasting their insides on the outside. microwaving my fingers to keep them from freezing on the typer keys. loss of motivation and gain of bookcase. tall. legs. kissing with purpose the shoulders of sweaters and t-shirts slowly get folded and put into boxes and forgotten ’til later. when will this burning in my muscle stop? this world is full up with blogs and douche bags and no one ever has a cigarette for free, for me. the skin peels off in dry itchy fever without permission without legal forms signed by people called esquire. give us more money and we’ll do more tricks but give us a voice and we’ll write on paper what makes us throb. today is black and denim but tomorrow might be cotton. these are only a few reasons to avoid cubicles and networks and college degrees.