Olivia Muenz

Content warning: unsanitary, death

I’m here

Here is my brain. It is writing this. For you. In Times  New Roman. To make us both feel. Better. We feel  even. Here is my brain. Here is my brain on drugs.  No eggs this time. Only the good ones. The doctor  ones. Perfectly legal. I feel fine. Perfectly regal. I  don’t feel pain. The earth is. Rotating on its axis and  so. Is this room. And so are you. We are. Fine.  Welcome to my book. 

Here is the world. We are in this together. The body  pulls. In towards itself and towards all of us. That is  all we need. Am I doing this right. Where was I  again.  

Here is the body. Of water. That you were looking  for. Take a drink. Kiss the mirror. It will last longer.  Don’t forget. To call the pharmacy again.  

Here is the state. Of things. We are in this together  and the room is moving with us. How nice. How  orderly. How together we are. I love you for being  here with me. We think about hop scotch and that’s  fine enough for now. I offer us a cold beverage. We  love cold beverages especially when it’s hot out.  How nice.  

Here is the fire. Place. It’s warming us up. We  needed it. We feel safe now. We breathe it in. The  smoke that’s good. We’re saw dust. We love this  stuff. We’re so happy we’re here. Did you see the  moon. Landing.  

Here we go again. It’s hurling towards us. Look out.  That was close. Let’s take a bath. Let’s promise each  other we’ll never bathe again. That will make us  proud. That will make us eat peaches. It doesn’t 

matter what we think. We forgot to call the pharmacy  again.  

Here is your brain on. Music. I’ll give it to you  Einstein. I’ll take you on a boat and make you watch  it sink. Do you believe me now. Is anybody alive out  there. Can anybody hear me.  

Here it is. We’ve been looking for you and here you  were all along. That’s the nature of it we figure. Hide  and we’ll seek. Do you think we can find it by smell.  Should we bake cookies. Can we find our way home  from  

Here is an orange. Let me show you how to slice it.  First you take an orange. Then you stick your thumb  in it. Then you hold it up to the moon. This step is  important. Don’t think about it. Think about orange  juice. Think about swallowing. Spin it like it’s the  earth. Now you can eat it.  

Here is that memory I wasn’t looking for. You  brought it back all of a sudden in a little tote bag. I  had forgotten all about it and now here it is. What a  surprise. Did you bring a gift receipt. 

Here is the new one.  

Here is my dusty balloon. I unpacked it just for you.  It will stay put if you let it. Give it a kiss.  

Here is my note. I am writing to you. To express my  gratitude for your prompt response. It is nice to be  thought of so quickly. I’ve been thinking about what  you said about jam. I am with you for the most part.  Have you given any thought to peaches. That is the  only hole. 

Here. I said here. A little to the left. A little more. A  bit higher. Not that high. But a little higher. Yes. 

Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry. 

Here I’m giving you an out. I’m giving you an out.  Well if you don’t want to take it. That’s not on me.  

Here I am. Surprise. I got you this time. You should  have seen your face. You looked like an icicle. You  hardly knew you were dangerous. You keep dripping  in my eye. I shouldn’t keep looking up. Let me know  when you spot the moon.  

Here we go again. 

Here I will read it back to you. So do you love it. You  can be honest. It won’t hurt. My feelings. Well you  could have been nicer about it.  

Here are my keys. Now get lost. 

Here is my urine. Sample. I made it just for you. I  hope you like it. I wiped the outside with toilet paper.  I even signed it. I packed this silver tray just to  deliver it to you. I hope you don’t mind the garnish.  I couldn’t decide between turnips and peaches.  

Here comes trouble.  

Here you went. I let you die without asking. I could  have done it. I could have made it easier for all of us.  But here you were and I couldn’t say a thing besides  no I am not my mother. It was too late for talks about  The Great Depression. Our great depression. I don’t  know why but I knew. I will save them for us forever.  We will live on forever.

Olivia Muenz is an MFA candidate in creative writing at Louisiana State University. She received her BA from NYU and is currently the Nonfiction Editor for New Delta Review. Her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Salt Hill Journal, The Boiler, Pidgeonholes, Heavy Feather Review, Timber Journal, Peach Magazine, Stone of Madness Press, and ctrl+v. @oliviamuenz

 

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