The Best Time To Talk

Melancholy Held Me Hostage, And The Bees Built A Hive Of Sadness In My Soul.

This Girl Shivers And Crawls Under The Covers With All Her Clothes On And Falls Into An Overdue Library Book, A Faerie Story With Rats And Marrow And Burning Curses. The Sentences Build A Fence Around Her, A Times Roman 10-point Barricade, To Keep The Thorny Voices In Her Head From Getting Too Close.

Grandma Frowned And Yelled Something In Russian. She Could Have Been Saying, 'open Up, Your Best Friend Is Here.' On The Other Hand, It Could Have Been, 'america Is A Great Country Because Of Canned Ravioli.

To Keep Up Appearances, I Stomp My Room And Slam The Door.

I Understood What Triggered Her Earthquakes, Most Of Them.