there should be a word for every kind of hot air balloon that exists
i met pedro in the air. he was collecting letters. he was assembling pieces of cloud.
i told pedro about the oldest form of human-carrying flight technology. he told me about a fire-starter in his village. she had a flame halo.
pedro went away to discover new fire words. “there should be a word for each kind of fire that exists” he said.
“there is a flame in this hot air balloon” i said.
“humans have explored the entire horizontal world, but they rarely think to explore vertically,” i said.
pedro and i are in love.
i taught pedro about how the oldest form of human-carrying flight technology started with floating eggshells and airborne lanterns. pieces of things went into the air before humans went into the air. birds are not included in this.
“people think too much about birds” pedro said.
i think too much about people. the tree line looks like a silver dollar when it reflects the sun. it makes the shape of a man’s face.
pedro is not even writing a new language. he is confused. he thinks he is in school right now. he thinks the air is a chalkboard.
“i am on my 49th word for fire!” pedro said.
i am going to throw pedro overboard. pedro and i are not in love.
the balloon without pedro is boring
i wish a bear would float by.
are there any bears in america? if a bear
was in my balloon with me we would hold hands.
the bear could not operate the mechanisms because
of no thumbs but i could take care of that
i have been playing solitaire for 4 days.
you take rejection so hard.
i didn’t want to throw you overboard but
we were sinking and i was tired of your vocabulary.
rejection can be funny if you laugh. laughter makes the thing
become funny. i am playing two hands of solitaire at once now
i will not let the devil beat me.
when i hated you i was thinking of someone else.
i saw people’s faces in the trees and confused you
with someone cold and heavy. i don’t really know
anything about your temperature or density or whether
you could operate the mechanisms. it doesn’t matter.
when i loved you i was thinking of someone else.
Kathryn Regina is a member of Venom Literati, a literary collective based in Chicago. She has work in elimae, 3:AM Magazine, Court Green and Sorry for Snake. Her blogs are www.venomliterati.blogspot.com and www.this-is-not-poetry.blogspot.com.