And These Are All Questions
I feel long.
Much longer than I should.
Why doesn’t anyone see it?
If I let go of the handrail I get facial hair and my fingernails click on the keys or the countertop or the desk or the table or pierce into the bumps of mosquito bites when they should just rough them up a bit.
So I’m growing.
Long.
Always.
The hair keeps coming.
Shave and it’s back.
Cut the nails and they just refinish themselves.
And the nose hair too.
Grows out.
Always.
Extends from the back of my throat so that it is catching me on the verge of chucking when I pull its long black line and tear my eyes.
Doesn’t anyone notice?
And why doesn’t anyone notice?
And things just keep on.
Keep going.
Keep growing.
And the bills never stop.
Even if you pay two at once they come back again.
Boomerang.
And the dishes always seem to be dirty and need running so I run them and then they’re clean and I have to unload them and put the dirty ones back in and then run it and so on.
Like that.
Infinitum.
Why is that?
And these are all questions.
By the way.
By the by.
These are all things I’m wondering while my facial hair grows and the beard nears closing in on itself and the fingernails click clack like empty box cars across the tracks of this desk or table or countertop or these keys that I use to type.
And the laundry too.
It never stops.
Always more.
Always something dirty.
Always.
Why is that?
Why can’t it be done for more than a day?
Or a week?
Or a month?
Maybe I just need more clothes.
More clothes for the laundry and more money for the bills and more paper plates in the kitchen cupboards so I’ll never have to ask these questions again and the landfill will just continue to rise.
Why not?
I don’t hear people talking about how the landfill just keeps filling up.
Instead it’s all this about how their beards keep growing in and their toenails are always threatening to puncture the toes of their shoes.
So maybe that’s the answer.
More clothes more money more throwaway dishes.
And a girl who doesn’t mind a beard.
A big bushy long beard that shakes when I talk and maybe sometime would drag on the floor and trip me up in my sandals that I use instead of close-toed shoes that my long toenails will only punch open anyway.
And fingernails that curve.
Long and dangly like school-girl hoop earrings.
Why doesn’t anyone notice that I think these things?
Why should they?
They shouldn’t.
• Among other publications, J. A. Tyler has recent work in The Feathertale Review, Thieves Jargon, Underground Voices, & Word Riot. He is also founding editor of Mud Luscious. Read more at www.aboutjatyler.com
