Roommates
on mobile? turn phone sideways!
On Seaman St. I got so low I used to order costume wigs online
with $10 gift cards I'd received as compensation for a study
on my gender. Never found out what it was. A month would pass;
the wigs would tangle on the floor. Emma and I would pluck puffball
mushrooms on our way home from class – by the man-made
pond where white foam floated with red-eared sliders, frogs got nervous,
and young lovers would circle three times (the angel's number).
I'd slide the meat from their bases with a rusty pocket knife my father
never gave me. He never said, "Chuck, you're a man now,
have this knife." I found the knife in a kitchen drawer, asleep,
with ancient Chuck-E-Cheese tokens and a souvenir penny
from the Rainforest Cafe. When times got tough, us roommates
would coin-cut the puffballs into personal pizzas, pop them on the stove
with crushed tomatoes from the college food pantry, and pretend
it was real pizza, like I'd pretend the wigs were my real hair.
