Guesticity #3

I attached my rent check to the refrigerator with three poetry magnets. Had I chosen longer words, I might have made do with two, but I unerringly reached for whisper, dream, and sleep. I could have used Venus’ boxer shorts, but that seemed wrong somehow. I’m sure you’ve seen the magnet set I’m talking about: the Venus de Milo and her magnetic wardrobe including everything from a motorcycle jacket to a set of frilly underthings and a rhinestone tiara. God knows what possessed her to buy these. I should have thought that she would have rejected this sort of accoutrement on general principle, due to the kitsch quotient. Jane is full of surprises. This is but one of them.

She came in from outside with boots full of snow and a strong aura of stale Players. I bought her some cigarettes in the duty-free once, and we joked about the Canadian packaging scheme that demanded a graphic disclosure of the consequences of smoking. Depending on the brand you choose, you can have blackened lungs, traumatized children, or a pregnant woman endangering her fetus. The text is invariably discouraging. I suggested that, the smoking culture being what it was, Canadian smokers have probably devised an entire language based on cigarette packet health warnings. Perhaps brand names are abandoned altogether in favor of familiar (if not reassuring) symbols. “Can you spare a couple of Lungs?” one smoker might ask another, only to have his friend reply, “Sorry. I’ve only got unfiltered Trach Tubes.” I myself had stubbed out a Suffering Second-Hander that very morning.

Guesticity courtesy: brenna.

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