Month: June 2015
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Idiot Box: ‘Turning Japanese’
Turning Japanese I was a girl you splashed with water. He spoke only in signs and subtitles. We kissed on his bed under a blue and pink horizon of cigarette smoke. Outside his window there were fireflies. Inside his walls there were infomercials. I carried a sword too big for my fragile hands, he drifted…
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Idiot Box: ‘Hand Grenade’
Hand Grenade In the month of bones I wear red galoshes for black-market Theraflu; we heard they took it off the market because junkies use it to break bad. On your side of town, you gather up single-serve soup cups and treat us both to the tissues with lotion in them. You wear your leather…
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Idiot Box: ‘Except the Cops’
Except the Cops I am not the first mystery you will ever solve. An old Chandler novel, an unsigned note, page numbers circled in a telephone sequence. These are the clues you use to track me down. We have never met before you call evening L.A. time; it’s midnight here when you start to read.…
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Idiot Box: ‘What We Talk About When We Talk About Michael Westen’
What We Talk About When We Talk About Michael Westen You are only a handful of dress shirts, but you are a different man each time you wear them. Walk, accent, tie or no tie. It’s only when you’re stripped bare that I recognize you at all. These days, you’re naked less and less often…
Libby Cudmore 