My cellmate spits, says, what’s outside? I say, see yourself. My cellmate spits, wipes, walks, says, a girl. I say, oh? My cellmate says yes and I say, oh? My cellmate says yes and I say, oh? My cellmate says fuck you and steps on my toes. The anger transfers; the anger, the envy, the hilarity all up and in the bones of my toes.
You sit in the park. You drink something that isn’t water from a water bottle. I see you through the tiny cinderblock window that breathes a little of the outside air into our cell, the air that flips your hair a little, the air you take and make smoke with, the oxygen the tree behind you uses to make love to your carbon dioxide. It’s red or something, the thing you drink, bloody.
My toes, trapped in my socks, scream; no one hears it but my knees. My toes scissor my socks, sever themselves, march away, two by five formation, up the wall, out the window, past the shadow of our cinderblock box.
In the park, my toes greet the toes that peek from your trendy shoes. My toes rape your toes. My toes cut your toes with their sharpened nails. My toes disappear into the tall grass.
My cellmate says, them some angry fucking toes, and I say, oh?
The core workshop of SmokeLong Fitness is all in writing, so you can take part from anywhere at anytime. We are excited about creating a supportive, consistent and structured environment for flash writers to work on their craft in a community. We are thrilled and proud to say that our workshop participants have won, placed, or been listed in every major flash competition. Community works.