A Conversation with an Idahoan
Jocelyn Curley
“Even the hottest baked potato has a cool side,” she said.
“What does that even mean? I swear everything that has come out of your mouth has been
about potatoes,” I replied.
“I’m from Idaho, I gotta keep up the stereotype.”
“I asked you whether I should wear flip flops or Converse today and you said that.”
“I like to think I’m good with metaphors.”
“That is not a metaphor! It’s not even a real saying.”
“Sure it is, it’s the Idaho version of ‘The grass is always greener on the other side of the fence’
or whatever.”
“Okay, now you’re just quoting The Little Mermaid. Forget it, I’m leaving, and I’m wearing the
Converse. The world is not your potato, Deborah.”
“Yes it is, and I can make it whatever I want: mashed, peeled, baked, or scalloped.”
Beckon (homewards?)
Vicquaja Mangal
Madness beckons with his warm body and open arms.
And it has been far too long since you’ve felt the comforting embrace of another.
He stands there, waiting, silent.
He makes no move forwards or back, and so you know he’s making a promise.
He’ll remain there waiting for you no matter what.
Madness knows you’ll meet him one way someday, one day someway.
Whether loneliness or emptiness or brokenness or godlessness will lead you there,
leave you here, he knows not.
Still, one day, he’ll be your only option for survival.
Already you can feel your choices dwindling, leaving you,
just you,
alone in the dark.
But Madness is there too,
with a match.
He can light your way, can lead your day, can make them pay,
can be your ray in the sudden darkness you’ve found yourself laying in.
He can keep loneliness at bay.
He can be your dance partner,
changing what is now your solo,
(what used to be a group piece),
into a magnificent duet where you can
dance your heart out
and sign your soul away.
Twirl with Madness and
he will wrap himself
around you in spirals of insanity.
Lay in his lap, and he will laugh along with you.
For with Madness, you and he are one.