by Margie Doolan

Black Bird Photo Op

She stood alone on the black asphalt and held the picture up to check the authenticity of its colors against the reality of the place. Broken strands of smoke hung suspended in midair, swept into torrents by the flapping of bird wings amidst stacked and hollow columns. Ash tinted plumes rose from the tops of the cylinders, diffusing the colors of day and night into shades of brown and gray, mimicking a sepia image. The time of day was lost. In the shot, black birds dangled poised in clouds, stuck forever in an instant. Her hand slowly returned to her side and she lifted her eyes to the giant erector sets, girded steel towers, which reached far up into the sky, obliterating the sun and moon and stars. The manufacturing plant smashed its mechanical gears into the ground, spewed its contamination into the air, and into the birds that flew with the wind to get out of there.

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Little Girl Games

My first cigarettes were Lucky's candy cigarettes that came in plain boxes with red letters wrapped in cellophane. Inside were ten white cigarettes with ready made flame tipped ends. Five to a row. Sucking on them was like licking a wall, but they were sweet and had more flavor than the red waxed lips that tasted like birthday candles. With cigarettes and lips in tow, I dressed up in my plastic high heeled shoes and feathered boa. I clopped noisily across the concrete of the driveway, poured imaginary and sticky liqueur (bright green or brilliant yellow) into my play champagne flute, bit a hole in the center of my candy lips, pressed the cigarette through the hole, and sucked deeply while I aspired to be like Natalie Wood in Gypsy.

"Let me entertain you, let me make you smile…"

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AUTHOR NOTES:

Margie Doolan

I am a student at Marylhurst University in the English Literature and Writing program. I am also a mother and a grandmother in hot pursuit of redefining the ways I interact in the world and am hoping to learn new ways to help contribute to a more just and sustainable future.