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Filled with Fucking Diamonds

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The day was grey, and not meant to be. The boy with a dream woke up with a song to sing. “I’m not excited--but I could be. I’m calling on the stars in the sky to bring down some fate for me.”

 

Lucy awoke and started counting her diamonds, each one a star in her kaleidoscoped eyes. What do you want? the song wheeling like seagulls, soaring across the sullen sky. What do you want, boy? What do you want?

 

“I want a little warmth,” he answered. “But who’s gonna save a little warmth for me?” The world was a cold, cold place to be. “I’m not excited--but could I be? Is this the dream that so long since been promised to me?”

 

The boy on the shore heard a great humming that went on for hours, rolling in the rustling of cellophane flowers. They rode the waves in from the gyre of garbage, and bobbed on the shore, all orange plastic flowers.

 

The sky was dry, Lucy’s diamonds all held tight in her eyes, and the boy dreamed of the fate that’d been planned for him.

 

He looked up to the marmalade skies and spoke to the clouds, “Couldn’t you save a little drop for me? I know, I know, you love the sea, but I love you and can’t you--can’t you save a little drop for me?”

 

The clouds wheeled in Lucy’s eyes, but Lucy’s diamonds stayed in her kaleidoscope eyes. Tangerine trees sprouted, and grew too high, all their shining branches trying to reach into the sky.

 

That boy was not excited, but he should be? Tangerines floating on branches, each as orange as the sky, looking-glass leaves sparkling like children of the sea. The fruit fell in the cup of his hands, and the boy could not be--Citrus was not the fate he was dreaming, dreaming to be.

 

“I know I love you,” he said, and sent them on their way. “But you love the sea.” His mouth parched to see them fly, orange fruit bobbing into the clouds of the sky, but there was not a soul, not a soul to save a little drop for him.

 

“Is this the fate that the Lucy in the sky has planned for me?” He drifted past the flowers that grew so incredibly high, walking to the shore on feet not yet broken, “A little drop, one little drop for me?”. The trees were like cotton, tangerine branches floating into marmalade skies, as the holy water dripped down, dripped down on them.

 

Newspaper taxis appear on the shore, then melted in a blink of kaleidoscope eyes. The boy stared at them, thinking, “didn’t there used to be flowers?” and steps into water, his eyes glued to the reflected skies.

 

The sun went down. It could not be seen. And Lucy didn’t save a little light for him. But then again, why should she--? The fate of the world was as it should be.

 

Marshmallow pies drifted closer, carried in waters of lightless devotion, but he could not see, “Oh Lucy won’t you save, won’t you save a little light for me?” The kaleidoscope darkened, a dream turning tainted, and he did not see. “Oh Lucy can’t you spare a diamond? A little diamond for me?”

 

She’s not excited--but oh she will be. The boy’s got a devil set aside for him. Oh yeah, she’s not excited--but why would she be?

 

“I’m tied to the tracks now--can’t you but see?” The kaleidoscope eyes snapped open and stared at his body, tied to the train tracks of all of his lies. “The sun’s gone down and all I want is a little light for me. Oh Lucy, won’t you save a little light for me?”

 

Lucy in the sky with diamonds, Lucy sailing by with rhinestones, the Lucy singing all her words now. “Why won’t you catch it before you keep walking? Why must I save the little drops for your wanting?” asked the tangerine clouds.

 

The boy went silent--as he should be. The fate of the world was resting on whether he died with ease. His heart was pounding, a song released--but no one was saving a song, saving a little song for he.

 

Lucy breathed, and the train left the station, the turnstile spinning with looking-glass lies. The night was deep--she had no place to be. Diamonds refracted with the light of the train tracks, and she laughed as she counted the stones in the sky. It was all okay when there was no light, no light to see.

 

“It was all a metaphor--why don’t you see?” The boy’s voice was rising as he tried so hard to be free. “All I wanted was a few little things to be given to me.”

 Santa

The shore was strewn with cellophane flowers, melted old taxis and boy made of sighs. Lucy looked on, you know, I could watch this for hours.

 

“Citrus and dreams strewn with marshmallow pies, I gifted in spite of your lies.”

 

“Metaphors!”

 

Lucy watched the train pull into station, the boy on tracks making the occasion. Plasticine porters looked on with horror as she laughed in the darkness, the girl with the kaleidoscope eyes.

 

“You died an unbeliever, tied to the tracks of the train--are you not excited? You should be! It was the fate, the fate I had planned for you.”

 

She’s not heartless--how could she be? Lucy was all any girl could hope to be. She caught the train back--rode it to the sky. There Lucy in sky with diamonds, stole a little drop, a little drop of wee. He died afraid, lost his dignity. She saved it with the diamonds, and waited for a time to make it rain.