Cacophony

Doubt. Delusion. Whitney Houston in a cheek bone store. No staircase. Just stones for going down. And up. Up. And down. Sally Struthers in the back of the book. No text. Just numbers counting backward from zero.

Pretty monkeys on the gold swingset humming songs no one's written yet. No music. Just sound crawling away from its soiled bed.

Like all the little girls I used to play with when I was alone.