Prose: Summoning Seattle

Summoning Seattle

Even though it’s a balmy 1,000 degrees out in South Louisiana, today I will be summoning my inner Seattle. Memories, so many. Feels like yesterday. We were all hangin’ patchouli’d-out, cloves-in, at Ernie Steele’s. Where were you? Living in the 90s. Drum beats. Wood floors. Vampires in my bed. “You’re life’s just like Singles,” she said. That damn baby gave me chicken pox! Wasn’t he dapper, long hair, lace cuffs, fangs. Vogue. RKCNDY. Weathered Wall. Sit & Spin. OK Hotel. Offramp. Fenix Underground. Rebar. Crocodile, when it was cool. I worked at Red Robin. And the Oven. And Hollywood Video. Remember when I’d play Sonic Youth and Alice in Chains videos over and over? And then I got fired for piercing my nose. What a crock. And Stormy, with her long awesome dreads and nag champa and tattooed crossed-out names of her exes? And everyone’s kisses. And Effie and Yuki. And blah school. And my marriage … and divorce. And leaving it all behind to work for Club Med. Yeah, like yesterday. And I thought I might marry Chris Cornell one day. I knew it wouldn’t happen, but still. Good times. But “tonight my tears might stain your wings.” Rain & Coffee & Salmon & Weed.

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