daisy chains

dan dan danny (5)

No one's bothered to refill the kettle. It once used to sing and spit smoking melodies. Mama talks to her mama on the phone, she switches tongues like one switches knife and fork or TV channels.

Speaking of, the TV crackles and buzzes in the living room. It echoes over to the kitchen where I watch the kettle explode.

Alas, it does no such thing.

The water is hot as hell. I touch the ceramic of a polka dotted mug and feel the heat press against my fingertips until I'm numb. It warms my blood to my chest.

"Mama," I hand her the mug.

It doesn't take long before she asks. "When you getting a real job, huh?"

"Oh mama," I sigh and feel a lot like Holly in Breakfast at Tiffany's, but without a white boyfriend to hold my hand. "I do got a real job."

She clicks her tongue. "You make tea at that dingy diner?"

"Nah."

"Mm. That's why you ain't fired yet."

I love my mama, but sometimes I think she only sees money. Like one of those cartoons where a green benjamin hangs from a fishing rod, and mama runs after it on a treadmill never quite making contact but always just getting there.

Oh, but who am I kidding? I'm just the same but I want camera flashes and to hop in and out of skin like one hops over cracks on the pavement. Don't step, don't step, don't step, and then leap.

"I only have an hour," I twist my wrist to stare at watch daddy handed down to me before he left mama for a jazz singer fifty miles out of town.

Mama sighs and waves her fingers at me. "Go. I don't need you here."

It doesn't hurt 'cause I heard it so many times before.

When I get to the diner it's the same 'ol thing and I'm bored.

I'm popping bubblegums and these two boys come in like they usually do on Saturdays at this time. They each take a turn chatting me up, but I like one of them. He always tries to be nice about it even when his eyes stray to my tits. Though I don't really know what he's looking at since there's really nothing there to look at. He's nice about it cause he asks about my day, and I know he cares cause he looks straight into my eyes and looks for the answer there.

I let it slip once that I was auditioning for a play, and now he asks if I've been this or that movie.

"You wanna catch something with me sometime? My guy works at a theater and he can sneak us in someplace if you catch the late showings."

I pop a bubblegum and watch him watch me scribble his regular on a notepad. "How late?"

He smiles. "Midnight suit you fine?"

"You got a ride?"

"Yeah, I got a ride."

"All right."

And I hear his friend say something like. "Real smooth, Danny."

And now I know his name too.