theivery

In 1991, Calle created Last Seen…, a series of works based on the 1990 Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum heist, in which thirteen works of art were stolen. Calle interviewed curators, guards, and other staff members, collecting their thoughts and memories of the missing works. The result was a meditation on absence and memory, a reflection on the emotional power that works of art have upon their viewers.

In 2012, Calle decided to revisit the project. She had learned that in 1995 the Museum had restored four of the empty frames left behind during the theft and reinstalled them on the walls of the Dutch Room.  Excited and intrigued by this visually organized framing of absence on the part of a museum, Calle made a new body of work and called it What Do You See?. The outcome is a portrait of absence that might, or might not, take shape through collective memories.

Last Seen brings together both series of works—for the first time—at the Gardner Museum. On view from October 24, 2013–March 3, 2014.
Very excited to see this show. CF

Image caption: Sophie Calle, What Do You See? (Vermeer, The Concert) (detail), 2013. Courtesy of Sophie Calle, Paula Cooper Gallery, New York, and Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, Boston. © 2013 Sophie Calle / Artists Rights Society (ARS), New York / ADAGP, Paris.

0uroboros8 said: Sadly God isn’t a real estate agent, there’s no claim to that land and if everyone decided to operate in that manner people around the globe would be forcibly removed from their homes because some religious text said it belonged to them. That’s not how the modern world operates, it’s military occupation and oppression plain and simple. Zionists had just about as much right for their theivery of Palestine as the Europeans had for colonisation of Native American.

I’m agnostic, the land isn’t ours because of any religious reasons. It is ours because we have centuries long history there. There are Jews whose families were in Israel for generations.

To say Jewish people colonized a land we are indigenous to is shameful, and I think Native Americans would tell you the same thing.

Sleight Of Hand (Part Two)

Description: Dean x reader. (Part One here) The reader pickpockets Dean and gets a whole lot more than she bargained for…
Words: 2,863
Warnings: Theivery, swearing
Author’s Note: For a ‘oh, I’ll just do a quick gif imagine before bed’, this has had a little more attention than I expected! No complaints from me, been a bit different to write but in a totally fun way!

————————
12 months ago
————————

“Y/N? Long time no see!” A voice shouted over the hustle and bustle of the busy supermarket.

You went wide eyed and winced at the loud noise, there went your subtle cover. Turning around to face the sound, you pasted on a big smile as the woman swept you up in a hug.

“Hattie! Ha! How are you? What are you doing out this way?” You said with the big, fake grin anyone who doesn’t actually want to talk adopts. She’d been an old ‘friend’ from high school, always the quirky one and a lot of people hadn’t liked her, but she’d been harmless enough to you over the years.

“I’m alright, travelling for work a lot. How’s things with you?”

“Same old! Just passing through, really,” you smiled, letting your cheeks rest a little. The silence wore on for a second too long to be comfy so you broke the quiet, “so what do you do for work now?”

“Odd jobs really, sometimes it’s a few days, sometimes it’s a few months.” She let out a short laugh. “You know what it’s like!”

You didn’t really know what it was like if you were honest… which was ironic phrasing when you came to think of it because your ‘job’ was far from honest. You could feel the lockpick set pressing against your hip as a reminder of just that, you’d not even plucked up the courage to use it properly, it just seemed fitting to own it. No one ever suspected you though, what could you say? It was a gift.

You saw Hattie’s eyes drift to the basket in your hands, a mismatch of things you had no intention of buying strewn inside. It was all just a cover so you could pickpocket someone without suspicion, but you couldn’t exactly say that in conversation.

“So, um, what are you doing at the moment?” You said, dragging her attention back away from the basket.

“Not much, just finished a job actually, I’m just stocking up for the next road trip,” she shrugged, her eyes darting back to the things in your basket. “Hey, Y/N, if you don’t mind me asking, what you’ve they’re got lighter fluid? Salt? You aren’t going, err, hunting are you?”

She said it in a hushed voice as if there were some big secret but it didn’t make sense. Why would those things mean hunting?

“Er, no?” You said with a perplexed look.

“Oh god, sorry, I just thought… never mind!” She shook her head and carried on, “It’s been so lovely to see you though, I gotta go but I guess I’ll see you around?”

“Yeah, sure!” You smiled politely and gave her a brief hug before she went on her way.

Looking down at the assortment of random items in your bundle you smirked, there was a reason Hattie had been known as the weird kid. Bless her, apparently her bizarre comments hadn’t toned down at all, she’d been a little dark and that freaked the other kids out but she seemed to have done well for herself. You put down the basket on an empty shelf and made your way out of the store, the loud chat had drawn more attention than you’d have liked, but there were plenty of other stores for the picking.

———
Now
———

You tightened up the toggles on your backpack and hoisted it higher onto your shoulder. Sam and Dean were sitting in the car outside, so you didn’t want to leave them waiting for too long. You’d decided to ask for a town two states over and had nearly been blown away when they agreed to take you there. You’d expected to bargain and barter for how far they would drive you, but if they were willing to travel that far, hey, you weren’t going to complain.

Sweeping your eyes over the room for one last check, happy that you hadn’t left anything behind, you locked the door. You shoved the keys back undernesth - it saved going to the office and having to talk to the receptionist - and then walked over to the brothers’ car.

“All set?” Dean said, winding down the driver’s side window.

“Yeah, you sure this is really alright?” You asked cautiously before you took that final leap and got into the car.

“Of course, no complaining about the music though, driver’s choice at all times.” Dean said with a wink and waved a tape at you.

“So long as it’s not some heavy screeching music, I’m good.” You smiled, opening the back door of the classic car and clambering in.

Sam let out a small laugh but quickly stopped when Dean threw him a glare. Dean put the tape he had back and rummaged through an old shoe box filled with yet more tapes until he found what he was looking for and popped it in. It sounded like Blue Oyster Cult or something like that anyway, you weren’t an expert on music, stealing an ipod was easy enough but keeping it charged was a different matter altogether. Whatever it was, Dean seemed to like it and you quickly drifted off into your own world as the miles began to slip by in a haze.

You weren’t a stranger to getting rides with random people, but that deep down that fear that they aren’t who they say they are always stayed there. As you drove along, an inkling of panic pricked at your thoughts as you realised you didn’t know anything more than their first names, and even that fact was debatable. There was a lot of gut instinct involved in your lifestyle, but actually, you knew nothing of the two men in the front seat, except the fake IDs and car that could defintely not be economical by any stretch of the imagination. Maybe they had a family? Maybe the kidnapped a family? They seemed friendly enough, but you decided to at least attempt light conversation.

“So, where are you guys from?” You said, keeping your voice light and whimsical.

“Lawrence, Kansas and a variety of motels along the way. Where are you-” Dean was cut off as a phone began to ring somewhere from the front. Apparently someone upstairs wasn’t keen on you having this chat.

Sam patted down his pockets until he found it and pulled out the buzzing cell. He peered at the caller ID and pressed answer.

“Hey there… yeah, yeah, what’s happening?” Sam said as a man’s voice came through the line. Dean threw his brother a questioning look to which Sam just mouthed the word ‘Lass’ or 'Cas’ or something like that. Whatever he had said appeased Dean and neither seemed too worried so you settled back into your seat and stayed quiet. You gazed back out of the window, listening in half heartedly, but you couldn’t hear the other person over the roar of the engine. “… No, Dean’s driving… um, on the highway… yes… Route 35 heading back North… What? NO! CAS NO!”

Your head snapped up at Sam’s sudden outburst and you tried to make hurried eye contact with Dean in the rear view mirror but his eyes were fixed on Sam. Whatever was happening clearly had them both alarmed.

A rustling to the side of you sounded like your jacket had fallen off the seat and you blindly out a hand put to stop it. It was then that your hand hit something that was warm, and wasn’t your bag or jacket. And you froze. Your breath caught in your throat and you turned to see a new, equally alarmed looking man had appeared into the seat from nowhere.

Now, you usually prided yourself on being calm and rational in situations, but nothing could have prepared you for that. You scrabbled back against the car door, a strangled yell escaping your mouth.

“Woah! Cas! When I said no, I meant-”

“WHAT THE FUCK?” You screeched, looking at the newest man in the back seat.

“Oh, I, um, wasn’t aware you had company,” he said gruffly, looking to Sam and Dean with a confused expression.

You swallowed hard, he wasn’t attacking, he wasn’t hurting you at all, in fact all he was doing is sitting calmly. However, a man had just spontaneously appeared in a vehicle travelling 100km/h in the blink of an eye and strangely enough that left you a little nervous.

“How the hell did he do that?” You snapped.

“Y/N, just take a breath, this is… well, this is Cas, short for Castiel,” Sam said slowly, “I get that you’re probably a bit confused but-”

“But there’s a reason we said to not ask questions,” Dean cut in, “don’t worry, no one’s going to hurt you, he’s just a little different, that’s all.”

You scoffed and stayed in your huddled position against the side of the car. It was definitely going too fast for you to get your bag and roll out, and even if you did you would have no where to go.

“Explain. Now.” You said, still eyeing Cas carefully, “I sussed you’re not normal fraudsters so what… what is this? A prank? Real X-men? Real X-files?”

Dean let out a short laugh and pulled the car slowly to a stop at the side of the highway. It took every ounce of your being to not just start running as it came to a halt, but the devil in you somehow still had you curious. He cut the engine and both brothers turned around to face you, you felt hemmed in with all three men suddenly with eyes on you but you bit your tongue and just stayed motionless.

“Are you sure you want to know? We can drop you in the next town and forget this happened,” Dean said cautiously.

“Tell me or so help me, I will call the cops,” you replied.

“Dean, you can’t just-”

“I’m an angel,” Cas said simply, turning to face you.

You blinked a few times attempting to process what you’d heard but you couldn’t help the laugh that was tugging at your chest. One look at the brothers, who seemed deadly serious, told you it was inappropriate to laugh but somehow that just made it funnier. You tried to hold your breath for a second to keep it in, but there was no use and you promptly dissolved into a fit of hysterical laughter as the three men watched on in confusion.

“I’m sorry,” you wheezed, “An angel? So what am I? A fairy?”

You sighed as you tried to rein the giggles in, but it was useless. It seemed like some special kind of irony that you, a practiced pickpocket, would be sat in a car with a man who claimed he was an angel. It sounded like the start of a bad joke, 'a theif and an angel are sat in a car…’ it’d end with a punchline about a penalty for theivery and probably a witty pun about God. You were lost on that train for thought when you became aware of that same gruff voice again.

“Yes, I’m an angel but I will not penalise you for your theivery,” Castiel said bluntly, “Sam and Dean have done more than-”

“How did you know I thought that?” You retorted.

“I read your mind.”

“Cas, we’ve told you that’s not cool, man,” Dean grumbled from the front but you weren’t paying much attention.

“What am I thinking now?” You snapped, concentrating as hard as you could on the ridiculous name that your friend had nicknamed you in high school.

“Jane Bond.”

“Holy shit. Wait. Unholy shit. Wait, oh whatever, how’d you do that?” You said, uncurling from your position slightly.

“It’s all waves, humans sense sound and visible light spectra but we have the ability to hone in on all electromagnetic and…”

He kept talking but you found yourself zoning out as your head suddenly ran away from itself. Did that mean God was real? The devil? If they were, with the amount of extra curricular activities you’d been up to in the past few years, was there a hell? Because if so, you were royally screwed.

“Y/N, you alright?” Dean chirped up from the front.

“I’m fine.” You muttered.

And you were, it wasn’t a lie, you were actually surprisingly fine all things considered. You had known there was something off about them, anyone who has that many IDs for different occupations clearly didn’t just sit back on a sofa all day. You’d expected to get to your destination without an existential crisis, but hey, things like that happened sometimes. Plus, adapting was basically in your job description, admittedly that usually meant improvising hiding spots or stories, but it was all relatively easy to you. It always had been.

“So, what are you guys then?” You said, mentally preparing yourself for the worst.

“We’re just as human as you,” Dean laughed, softening as he saw your shoulders relax, “we hunt the nasty things that go bump in the night. Demons, vampires, shapeshifters, ghosts, you name it.”

“You actually kill those things?” You asked, not sure entirely if you wanted the answer to be yes or no.

“If it saves people, then yeah. It’s basically our full time job, sometimes it’s an exorcism, sometimes it’s a good talking to a person, sometimes it’s a salt and burn, hunters keep it at bay so people like you don’t ever have to worry,” Sam said. His eyes were almost as apologetic as they had been back at the motel when he’d restrained you and a glance to Dean betrayed the same expression.

“I think I knew a hunter once…” you muttered, half to yourself, “She talked about weird pagan things. And there was that time- Hry, would you guys have use for lighter fluid and salt?“ “Yeah, that’s basically base materials for taking down a ghost, why?” You shook your head in disbelief as you said, “Bless Hattie, I thought, God, I don’t know, I just thought she watched too many films. So this,” You said, gesturing to the car around you, “This is how you spend your lives? Travelling the country to talk to Casper the ghost?”

Dean pulled a face but on eye contact with you, it quickly dissolved into a smile.

“Yeah, it’s not all fun and games though. It’s a short life expectancy, it’s dangerous and definitely no health insurance,” He grimaced, before nodding to Cas, “He patches us up more than I’d like.”

You laughed a little, looking at the still timid man in the seat next to you. It was surreal, almost as if you were viewing the entire situation from a third person perspective, any moment the man would run out with a clapper board and yell “cut”. But he didn’t and everything felt strangely comfortable, like a new jacket that was foreign yet somehow like home.

“How do you, well, be a hunter?” You stuttered.

“You try not to, you run and you don’t look back,” Dean said in a low voice, “You don’t want this life, Y/N.”

“Cas can wipe your memory of this conversation and you can go back to not knowing,” Sam offered.

“No! Wait!” You sat forward in your seat and licked your lips as you formulated your plan. “So hunting, you travel, think on your feet and, eh, possibly push the boundaries of the law a little bit… but you help people?”

Dean’s face changed as he saw where you were heading in your conversation but you ignored the look and kept going.

“I can read people, I can get in and out of somewhere easy, yeah, I can’t shoot a gun but I’m perceptive, that’s got to be something, surely? You’ve seen my police file so getting a normal job isn’t ever going to be easy, but I could do nearly what I’m doing now but helping people? I don’t like stealing, but I have that skill set, let me help.”

You finished your rant slightly breathless and your eyes darted between the three men. Castiel seemed neutral, Sam looked cautious, but it was Dean’s reaction you were looking for. He kept his face blank for a moment but his telling feature was in his eyes.

They softened but there was a spark, the same spark that you’d seen there before. It was curiousity.

“We can’t stop you, but you’ve only seen the good side. You don’t just lift a wallet off of a werewolf, they come at you teeth and claws, you can’t just distract them with a smile,” he said bluntly.

“So I’ll learn to fight.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Then teach me.” You realised the boldness of the statement as it slipped out but you stuck by it.

The only sound for a nearly 10 full seconds was simply the breathing of the four of you, Sam looked as if he was going to make a comment but quickly thought better of it. You were just about to hoist your bag out of the footwell and leave in a hurry, when Dean broke the silence.

“Alright then, sweetheart.”

“Really?” You breathed, barely believing your ears.

“Yeah, just…. keep your hands to yourself from now on?” Dean said cracking a smile.

You mirrored it in a split second and without a thought you spoke back.

“No guarantees, handsome.”

Sleight Of Hand

Description: Dean x reader. (Mainly) The reader pickpockets Dean’s wallet and gets a little more than she bargained for…
Words: 2,058
Warnings: Theivery?
Author’s Note: From my short imagine a couple of days ago! After requests to continue it, I did and pheeew, I’m definitely glad I did! Hope it’s alright ;)

You made a beeline for him, you knew his sort, slightly inebriated, he wouldn’t notice a hand slipping in his pocket when you bumped into him… and he wouldn’t notice the lack of wallet for a good few minutes after that. Within a couple of seconds you collided with him and you slipped your hand into his jacket as expected. Easy as pie.

“Oh Gosh!” You gasped, your fingers closing around what you assumed to be a wallet and pulled it out, careful not to jog him. With one swift motion, it was in your open handbag and both of your hands were free. You patted him on the arm as part of your apology, redirecting his attention, “I’m so sorry, completely in my own world!”

“Hey there, sweetheart,” the man muttered, slightly shocked as he took a step back.

“No, my fault, handsome,” you said adding a giggle for effect. You started to walk away, the normal routine, but barely got two steps when you felt a hand clamp around your wrist.

“I don’t think it’s quite your style though, do you?” A low voice said in your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat, you swallowed hard and let instinct take over, in a quick motion, you ripped your hand free and sprinted off down the street. He didn’t expect it and was a few beats behind, feet pounding on the sidewalk. The few metres behind was all you needed, you skidded around a couple of corners, pulled up your hood and melted into the bustling crowd in front of you.

It was only when you looked in your bag at the end of the day you that you felt that dread again. You heard a knock on your door and you quickly tucked away the man’s 10 fake IDs laid out in front of you under the pillow. Whoever he was, he wasn’t any more innocent than you by the looks of it, it was a little comfort at least. You felt guilty when there were photos of kids inside, but that many fake IDs in different names? It almost made you feel like the innocent one.

The person knocking on the door hammered their fist against it again, louder this time.

“Jesus Christ, I’m coming,” you grumbled as you threw the door open to be confronted with a familiar face.

“Hey there sweetheart.”

Shit.

The man from earlier stood casually leaning against the peeling door frame, he had an eyebrow raised as he regarded you and you hoped the shock didn’t show in your face. How could he have found you though? You’d lost him back in the market square, and whilst he’d wandered off like a lost little lamb, you’d carried on with your day.

However, judging by his face there wasn’t time for this deliberation now. You had three clear options: act oblivious, use the evidence you had shoved under your pillow for blackmail or simply run. Any should work and whatever you did would have to be done fast. Go.

“Hi, can I help?” You said innocently. Oblivious technique first.

“I think you’ve got a little something of mine,” the man replied, face far from cracking into that boyish smile from earlier.

“I don’t know what you mean… I… I’m sorry,” you stuttered. Slipping on words, increase the sympathy, it was worth a shot.

“Don’t act stupid, you’re clearly not.”

“I’m sorry but I really don’t-”

“Y/N, don’t act dumb.”

Well that threw you. Where the hell did he find out your name? Maybe you had misheard, because you’d definitely not introduced yourself as that in nearly 5 years and he wasn’t someone you knew from before that. But if he knew your name, oblivious wasn’t going to work, it was time for your next tactic. Intimidation.

“Fine, I won’t. Don’t act like you’re the victim, though. I’m sure the cops would just love to see that pile of IDs, a little fraud here, some impersonation charges there and the list goes on, doesn’t it? Wonder who’s DNA matches that blood stain too?”

The last bit may have been guess work but it hit the spot, his jaw clenched and he stayed silent for long enough for you to formulate your next round. You made a point of crossing your arms over your chest and standing in a more imposing stance, he was taller than you, yes, but that didn’t mean a thing.

“Leave now, I don’t tell the cops a thing. Stick around and I can promise a few missing dollar bills will be the least of your worries,” you said, keeping your voice level.

The man swallowed hard and drew himself up taller too.

“I’ve coped with worse,” he shrugged, “Hand it over.”

“Or what? You’ll cry to mummy? No way. See you later, bud,” You smiled sweetly and made a motion to close the door but he thrust his foot in the way. His reactions were surprisingly quick, you’d give him that much.

“You saw the IDs? Then you know that I’m not afraid to break and enter to get what I want.”

You took in his eyes for the first time at this point. They were green, laced with flecks of brown but perhaps the most important thing was he didn’t look like he wanted to hurt you. You’d met enough bad men to know the slightly glazed over look they had when they detached themselves from the situation, and that wasn’t it. Equally though, he didn’t seem worried over your threats and judging by the heavy boot still wedged in the threshold, he didn’t plan on leaving empty handed.

“Big man puts his foot in a door? Forget it, have a nice day.“ You smiled sarcastically and kicked his foot out of the way to close the door.

“Y/N…”

There he went again, how the hell he knew your name you didn’t know, but you didn’t like it.

“That’s your name, right? Y/N?” He said, putting a hand on the door to stop it closing.

You let your eyes dart across the room quickly, this motel was only a brief stop, you didn’t have any gear to hand for defence and you weren’t exactly a cage fighter. You didn’t want to risk a confrontation with a man that large so it seemed to be time for plan C. Run.

You jumped back, the sudden lack of pressure causing the man to stumble in. You used that few seconds to grab your phone from the small table and as he straightened himself up to face you, you ducked past him in the small gap between him and the door. It wasn’t exactly ideal and it wasn’t elegant, but talking was not one of your strong suits. You turned to the right to head down the side alley but went careering straight into another taller man blocking your way.

Oaf.

He clamped hands either side of your arms and held you still for a moment.

“Let me go! Moron,” you barked, you struggled against him but he held you in place.

“Hey, I’m not going to hurt you,” he said quickly. You huffed and tried to aim a kick at him but it didn’t work. He looked down at you pleadingly and almost looked sorry when he adjusted his grip to properly put you in an arm lock. You could feel the panic rising yet you couldn’t do anything other than wait until the other man to popped his head out of the door.

“You got them?” The newest man asked.

“Under the pillow - Inventive.” The green eyed man smirked, holding up the IDs in one hand and the empty wallet in the other.

“You’ve got them, happy? Now let me go,” You snapped, trying to keep any glimmer of fear out of your voice.

“You’re quick to change your tune.”

“Yeah, well this wasn’t part of the plan,” You retorted back at him. He gave you a tight lipped smile as he filed the IDs back into their places and tucked it in his jacket, you noticed he put them it a different pocket this time, at least you’d left your mark somehow.

“Look, Y/N, we just needed these back, we found you on a security camera and checked your face against police records ect etc,” He paused but when you still stayed silent he carried on. “My name’s Dean and this is my brother, we aren’t gonna hurt you, now if Sam lets you go, you’re not going to run and scream for help, right?”

You pursed your lips and nodded sharply. The two men clearly weren’t shy to violence but something told you he was being honest.

“Fine,” you muttered and you felt ‘Sam’ release your arms.

The man holding onto you let go for a moment, eyeing you carefully to see if you’d make a run for it. You did take a cautious step back, but running at this point seemed pointless… Besides, you were curious.

They could have knocked you unconscious, taken their things and left a tip to the cops, but here they were trying to talk. You’d encountered fraudsters plenty of times and they never thought twice about screwing someone over but something about them just screamed “weird”. Even the IDs weren’t the usual things you’d fake - who uses an FBI badge and has the balls to pull it off?

“Back in the street, you didn’t even flinch, you just took my wallet and ran, is that normal for you?” Dean said slowly.

You shrugged and nodded, if they’d seen your police record, there was no point in hiding it now.

“Why do you do it? ” Dean said, he didn’t seem accusatory, simply curious. You could lie, but for now you didn’t want to, with a sigh, you decided to tell him the truth.

“I wanted to travel and see places, I don’t have a job or qualifications so I worked with the skills I’ve got,” you muttered.

Dean nodded understandingly, when a strange look crossed his features, he looked at Sam and raised an eyebrow. You weren’t sure what that meant but you felt there was something they weren’t telling you.

“What?” You said, brow furrowed.

“Nothing, I just… Sammy, can I have a word?” Dean smirked slightly.

Sam looked at you, obviously unsure if you were going to bolt or not but you shook your head and he seemed to take that as a good enough reason.

The two men walked until they were just out of ear shot and spoke in low voices. You couldn’t make out what they were saying but whatever it was, they didn’t agree on it and a finger pointed in your direction suddenly made you a little nervous. Dean was speaking a lot with his hands, it was something you’d learned to watch for in people and he seemed to be trying to persuade his brother into ‘something’.

They carried on like this for a few minutes and just as you were going to make a hasty exit, they did something most peculiar. They played rock, paper, scissors. Dean played paper and made a big deal of his win against his seemingly shocked brother. He pulled a disapproving face but it was lost on Dean entirely as he jogged to catch back up to you.

“What was with the secret handshake?” You laughed nervously.

“How does a one way free ride sound? Anywhere you want?” Dean said with a grin, “It’ll save you pickpocketing anymore innocent people.”

You blinked a few times, letting his words sink in. You weren’t a stranger to hitch hiking, but this was definitely the first time someone had offered a lift after you’d stolen off them.

“Seriously?” You breathed.

“Yeah, I mean, we haven’t, um, got much room in the trunk for any stuff it’s quite full of ‘other’ things, but yeah, a one way trip couldn’t hurt… We won’t ask too many questions if you don’t ask too many either.”

You looked between the two men and took a deep breath, there was something they weren’t telling you, but a need-to-know-only basis worked with you too. They didn’t seem like psychos at least.

“Deal,” you said with a nod, holding out a hand for a handshake.

“Alright then, Y/N,” Dean said giving your hand a firm shake, “Where to?”


—–

Read Part Two!

Two Priestesses.

twisted, held your wrists. 
I was the button cams who wanted to be your eyes. You
saw like the sun did. Just less mercifully. 

tangles in your tricks. no knot deigns to
be ballet. you have rescues down your shirt, things
you never need 
except to kill, except to eat. Fire starves
too easily. Diamonds are
rude enough to endure. Seismic tremors 
distastefully observe you. they see as nothing as I see. If you
loved me, you’d love me blind. Close my
eyes till their resolutions shift, sizzle, fabric chips crackling
like camping grounds. Twisted in the trees, 
nooses set up, 
artistry in endless motion of 
captive silence, 
capsized islands that are my dials. Twist 
me, please. 

Your focus is terrifying. Crack me. Quake me. Whatever. Break me. 
I need your skillset, 
baby, save me. Your smile’s china is shattering, unquietly. You
are not stronger than my solar system, 
nor my immune autonomy. Cutlasses can my feelers bypass, but
your lockpicks run much deeper, 
darling. Let me
dare to observe you, more
bonfire than sunlight. I will not
cast your shadow; I promise, 
lovely. Bind my wrist to seal your dancer’s deals, even. See
me like the sky sees. I shine
back, somewhere between the twists you love, 
the clicks adored by 
every kind of joy, from hearts to holograms, 
smokescreens to mysteries.

Neighbors vs. friends
  • Me: "Yeah it's weird having neighbors now... Dude, the little old lady next to us stole our trashcan the other day!"
  • Jon: "Are you serious?"
  • Me: "Yeah I guess she got confused."
  • Jim: "Did you beat her @$$ and call her a punk b@#%! for stealing your trashcan??"
  • Me: "Jim, she's like 90!!"
  • Jim: "She stole your freaking trashcan!!"
  • Gotta love guy friends. Today, they left 2 Sports Illustrated calendars in my mailbox. Why? Because I "wanted them!!: )" *facepalm*