by Dorothy Parker:

My land is bare of chattering folk;
the clouds are low along the ridges,
and sweet’s the air with curly smoke,
from all my burning bridges.

me: couldn’t you just walk from Auntie Kelly’s to Randy’s?
Dyl: no mom, that’s a long and treacherous road.
[Pause]
Jane (spoken with disdain): you could walk on the sidewalk.

**************
[driving by a shiny, black volvo]
Dyl (ever so slightly acerbically): woah… sweet WAGON.

I swear our best family moments happen when we’re all in the car.

I haven’t had one in a really long time.
it was like those torture porn movies, like Saw or Captivity
but there was also a Pan’s Labyrinth/Hellraiser element too.
and it was happening over and over.
and it wasn’t just me, it was dozens of people.
children, and teens, and adults.
each time we would escape it would be like one of those twist endings
and you were back in, but worse.
over and over.
I woke up and I couldn’t see right.
things had patterns all over them and I was afraid to move.
when I finally looked at the clock it said
3:33
I’m fucking freaked.

before I fell asleep I thought I could hear faint music coming from the front rooms.
every once in a while that happens so I knew it wasn’t real
cos it doesn’t sound like my ringtone
and nothing’s on.
I heard it when I woke up too.

wish me safe sleep.