Late that afternoon,
when the last
kitten is dead,
I bike my way to Mari’s house.
I am hollow inside
from it all.
Look at this camera,
Mari says, when I walk
in her room,
clicking my picture before
I even have a chance
to smile.
My father bought it
for me.
She snaps another picture and
another
and one more.
And I almost
forget
every
awful
in
my
life.
Stop it!
I want to say, but
I’m laughing.
We can do something
with these,
she says.
Maybe I can blackmail
you.
But first,
she says aiming the camera,
more
pictures.
I pose,
hand on my head,
covering my mouth,
pointing to my butt.
pulling at her hair,
mouth wide open,
grabbing her bosoms.
We take pictures,
laughing the whole
time.
Carrying on
till Mari’s mother
stops in to see what’s going on.
We’re leaping on Mari’s bed,
both of us, leaping,
catching action shots.
What are you two doing?
her mother says
just as the bed collapses.
I hit the floor
on both knees,
and roll onto my back.
Mari falls to the floor, purple
hair every-which-way.
She aims the camera.
I point to my O-shaped
mouth.
Snap!