I live in a big house with Mrs. L, Anthony, who else? There is a war on. Anthony dies; I clean the house, kill the cat; I have a red fallout rash and deadwhite nipples. People are trading huge satin-lined boxes like hatboxes or coffins for a place to spend the night.
No. We live on the moon in a little house with a garden and air and a little dog. I don’t want Anthony to touch me; I’m furious because he gave me water from a dog dish and dog food to eat.
I’m on a hill above the football field at my high school, taking a shower in a shower made by hanging shower curtains on Stonehenge. Winona is there. She can’t pronounce “Juanita.” So we practice it together for a while.
She gets in the shower with me, making a bonnet out of the curtain.
I tell her about some tragedies which have happened at this school: heads rolled; a student filming a video on this Stonehenge shower stall was hit by lightning.
We go down to the football field where there is a plane show. Rabbit-sized airplanes dig into the earth, dig out, fly, burrow, fly.
I can make myself invisible, and I can fly. I am in Dan’s body. I fly up through the treetops, chased by my dead dog. I haunt the home of a rich family with three daughters. I visit the man in his bed; he thinks I’m his wife. I roll marbles and balls down the passageways, and it seems they’re proud to have a ghost because they brag about it to their friends. I go down the hall to the oldest daughter’s bedroom, where she and her friends are getting ready for a party, dressing in lace and brocade. I have a large iron rod to kill them with, but there are too many of them.
I tell my sister about my talent for invisibility. I say, “I can prove it,” but it’s hard. I struggle and struggle, then finally manage it, feeling my entire body slowly change. “Can you see me now?”
I can see myself, though.