So my twin brains me, and feeds my body to the sky, thinking it will bless her. The snakes coil at her feet, the snakes coil around her arms. Everyone cries, “what beautiful jewelry you wear!” Everyone loves her.
The sky blesses her; she twins, over and over, talking and talking and talking. The air is humid with chatter.
The air says, “enough, I’m leaving California. I’m going to circulate over the Pacific Ocean for awhile and mind my own Etsy shop. All you copies can think about what you’ve done.”
The twins invest in scuba gear and continue their conversations using tablets and dry erase markers. They pretend they’re underwater, it’s easier that way.
I come back from the sky with a headache and all my twins embrace me. Everyone breathes again, we have so much to say to one another. When our friends look for us, all they see are trees.
Another Chicago Magazine 