Melissa Blue

First the bubbles float up from the sea in this new world of mine. All the butterflies are blue and cover the trees.

The Melissa Blue are a haunting family of butterflies. They belong in an ice forest. They're bluetiful and look cold to the touch. I like the guys with the teardrop-black eyes, grey fur like a wolf-fly.

Deep in my heart they're pitching oil in buckets, and little blue butterflies are haunting up here and there, one at a time, breaking for the sunlight. Someone's big fucking hand is in the way, I think it's mine, closing over the well. But I have to get that oil out of there.

Winter

First snow in Denver! It's bringing out the ghouls. Nightmares are heightened in the one-bedrooms, and last night I felt a warm hand holding mine, putting me to sleep.

At Victoria's Secret, I caught a little boy lying under the dressing room door, staring as I tried on lingerie. When I told him to leave, he didn't react right away.

I just wanted to feel attractive. The holidays make me all weird. I crave ice cream and frozen yogurt shops. Cold comfort foods. I want to wear petticoats and expose my throat with something pretty hanging from it, a necklace, inexpensive quartz. In the winter I want to dress up every day and dance, strapless silver dresses. It all feels so melancholy this time around, except in those first few moments when the snow starts falling.