Catalog of F***ing Gratitude

 

“The struggle itself towards the heights is enough to fill a man's heart. One must imagine Sisyphus happy.” -Albert Camus, The Myth of Sisyphus

 

 

Sparkling grins

Stained lips

Missing teeth

And wolf’s grins

Toothy beams

Mouths wide open

Obnoxious guffaws

Rapturous cackles

And tittering

 

My baby sister used to run at me

With syrupy sweet

     Sticky

          Sticky

Digits

Bright blue as they grab after me

The blue stickiness trailing down to her elbow

Leading my eyes to the

     Sticky

          Sticky

Blue of her wide lips

The candy Joker smeared from cheek to cheek

Her laughter just as sugary

She’s older now.

 

Rapturous screams

And shouts

And whoops

 

Whistlings,

If we’re lucky

Moanings,

If we’re very lucky

Sobbings

If we’re not

Snot dripping to the edges of lips

 

Tears slithering down

The mounds of our cheeks

Traces back up to these eyes:

-Bloodshot

-Puppy dog

-Teary

-Bright

-Doe

Crow’s feet

Stomping out patterns

Into the snow

Sculpting the snow

Snow-angeling the dandruff

Scratching the scalp

Shaking free the flakes

 

Shaking

Thrashing

Moshing

Headbanging

Hair in tangles

Hair wind-swept

Hair beach-waved

Hair oily

From grimy, greasy fingers

Brushing through

Catching on

Tugging on

 

Slapping,

If we’re lucky

Slapping,

If we’re not

Clapping for those we love

For those we appease

 

I once shook a limp handshake on a first date

The sweatiest, most unassertive, most unattractive noodle arm

I never wanted to make contact with in my life

I left him with the bill

And he’s probably happily married with kids by now

I’m remembering him while stepping over

This used condom thrown onto this sidewalk

God knows how and why

 

Stepping over

Skipping over

Running away from

Running to

Who are we to judge

The swift-footed

Soft-footed

Lead-footed

Dainty-footed

Callous-footed

 

Brutes Barbarians Philistines The boorish

Yet still take civilized bites into ripe strawberries

To savor every drop of sticky red juice

Not letting a single droplet fall unless onto the tongue

Because if there is a God

He exists within sweet ripe fruits

Yields produced under the dirt caked fingernails of farmers

And drooling curious children

 

Private elementary school kid

Intellectuals

 The civilized

  Poets

   The highbrow scholars

    And geniuses

Still need to wipe their asses at the end of the day

So why not just enjoy that strawberry

 

All this

While we are all crawling in a circle

On hands and knees with each other

Buckling every so often

Scraping our elbows

Craving to be closer to the earth

Jumping up and shrieking in reverence

Without rhythm

Baring our teeth and tongues

To the expansive heavens

 

Thank you all for crawling with me

I am so

Fucking grateful

 
 

Sam hui

Currently a junior at NAU, Sam is pursuing her BA in English with certificates in Creative Writing and Literature. Her thematic interests in writing are bacchic madness and sublime mundanity. She loves cream puffs, Anaïs Nin, and any Richard Linklater film. She just recently published her first poem in Maudlin Magazine.
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