TWO WORKS BY MYLES ZAVELO
Very Rough
We’re inside our apartment, because it’s raining outside our apartment.
Even without the rain, we’d still find a reason to stay inside, we’d still be hungry.
But, my girlfriend. She’s totally beautiful, inside and out. I don’t know, it must be her genes?
She’s asked me to keep an eye on the uncooked chicken resting on the kitchen table.
She doesn’t want bugs––the bugs we live with, the bugs we’ve named––finding our chicken.
Our next-door neighbors shout racial slurs at their bugs. They take it too far.
We don’t do that. We don't take it that far. We take care of our farm.
Now, I don’t mean to separate ourselves from them, but they do that. Bwak!
When I get the chance, I need to clean the mess on the roof. (The mess on the roof is wet now.)
Last night, we had a party on the roof. This morning, I was so hungover I started crying.
This morning, before the rain/after the tears, I entered a raffle at The Chinese Conservative Baptist Church.
This morning, our next-door neighbors’ son overdosed; what a fucking horror show!
And I'm failing to mention something that's been bringing me down considerably.
My girlfriend has to return home soon. She needs a green card. Her country is another country.
After she leaves, I’m burning this building down to the ground, I swear to God.
These are the sounds of the bugs and chickens on our farm. The sobbing of quadrillions.
We’re inside our apartment, because it’s raining outside our apartment.
Even without the rain, we’d still find a reason to stay inside, we’d still be hungry.
But, my girlfriend. She’s totally beautiful, inside and out. I don’t know, it must be her genes?
She’s asked me to keep an eye on the uncooked chicken resting on the kitchen table.
She doesn’t want bugs––the bugs we live with, the bugs we’ve named––finding our chicken.
Our next-door neighbors shout racial slurs at their bugs. They take it too far.
We don’t do that. We don't take it that far. We take care of our farm.
Now, I don’t mean to separate ourselves from them, but they do that. Bwak!
When I get the chance, I need to clean the mess on the roof. (The mess on the roof is wet now.)
Last night, we had a party on the roof. This morning, I was so hungover I started crying.
This morning, before the rain/after the tears, I entered a raffle at The Chinese Conservative Baptist Church.
This morning, our next-door neighbors’ son overdosed; what a fucking horror show!
And I'm failing to mention something that's been bringing me down considerably.
My girlfriend has to return home soon. She needs a green card. Her country is another country.
After she leaves, I’m burning this building down to the ground, I swear to God.
These are the sounds of the bugs and chickens on our farm. The sobbing of quadrillions.
Life And Times Of Todd Cunningham
Recently heard that Todd Cunningham committed suicide.
That was a sunny afternoon.
Todd was an old buddy of mine.
Hadn’t seen him in forever.
Hadn’t heard from him in forever.
And, it’s funny, because Todd knew a radical environmentalist who burned himself to death.
What a cliché: set himself on fire near the White House, wearing a USA T-Shirt, chanting.
They were neighbors, and Todd actually saw the environmentalist right beforehand.
The last thing the environmentalist said to Todd?
Take it easy, Todd.
The environmentalist was a really nice guy, apparently.
Hosted backyard summer barbecues.
Invited the entire cul-de-sac.
Really strong sense of community.
Take it easy, Todd.
Seriously.
Myles Zavelo’s writing has appeared or is forthcoming in the following publications: Joyland Magazine, The Alaska Quarterly Review, The Southampton Review, New York Tyrant Magazine, Muumuu House, Maudlin House, The Harvard Advocate, Berfrois, Queen Mob's Teahouse, and elsewhere.