The Chlorine Atom Girl

Sitting on a stool, smoking by the door, tipping her elbow in favor of—whatever—always wondering about why it must always be she who leaves even if she would like to stay—the night, maybe—and why she must always be there to watch people find—happiness, if you can call it that—the thing they told her as a child she must chase down—the thing you can’t just sit around waiting for—the thing you must make yourself pretty to be able to acquire—what: why people are always trying to get her to leave—whoever she is with at the time—is because she probably will—not that it wouldn’t be lovely to have a home with a small garden outside—but young, fair brides so quickly become—the hags that lust after cabbage—and so she continues to live this life—of what can you call this—substitution—at least she has seen more nights colored in gin—than your average smart person—she tells everyone else it is better to be the Chlorine Atom Girl, light on your feet and ready to head wherever whoever pulls you next—it is better to be wanted and reluctant—at least you have the option—to get the hell out when you need to—which in her case is often—she fell in love with this guy once—but that was before—she was—herself

[The complete work to be published in December 2014 in EM Zine Issue 3.]

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