Red Balloon Face

Red Balloon Face

Don’t look like that.
Stop looking at me.
In that way.
Yes, that way.
That way
Is all too familiar.

Glass eyes,
Red Balloon Face.
Made in China.
Who sold you this?
Who made you sick?
(With happiness)
That man and his store!
Again
and again.

‘Next time you’ll buy from me!’
I said.
He nods.

Don’t laugh like that.
You make me cringe.
It’s a cheap laugh
You bought in a small exchange
For that plastic face.
That sparkling plastic face.

‘Next time you’ll buy from me!’
I repeat.
He nods.

Don’t walk like that.
It makes me mad.
How you refuse to fall.
And they all say,
(The dumb, uncomfortable comment)
‘At least he doesn’t fall!’
Your balance is too well thought out.
You’re too smart.
I wish you’d fall.
Fall flat on your face.

‘Next time you’ll buy from me!’
I repeat again.
He nods.
Again.

I refuse to purchase your
twinkling eyes,
dancing walk,
singing voice,
laughing mouth,
excited hands.
They are all contraband
imported from
third world country criminals.
That you bought,
at too cheap a price.
And these coins are too heavy a change.
Why did you sell yourself out?
You sell yourself out,
for too cheap a price.
They threw away your instruction manual.
You’re out of tune.
You’re out of date.
You’re out of time.
         
I’m sorry.
I like you when you’re angry.
Numb. Sad. Depressed. Mad.
Empty.
I love you,
when you stare out your window.
Hopeless, with the doors shut.
Sitting at your smoky office desk,
bathing in a puddle of regret,
(The reflection of me in sight)
looking at your beautiful raw sadness.
(So beautiful, I wonder why you hide.)

I’m sorry.
The pillows on your face
have absorbed too much disappointment.
Your heart too heavy to carry
it all.
As we spent hours arguing
on which version of you
we should preserve.

I’m sorry,
most of all.
That I went to that man today.
The man I hate. The store. The disgrace.
And made my first purchase.

I’m sorry,
That when I came home,
I didn’t yell at you today.

I’m sorry,
that for the first time
we laughed
the night away.
Talking for hours,
sucking the sour bottles,
Until our bodies were dry.
Sharing a lie. 

I’m sorry,
most of all,
and beyond everything else,
that
I loved it.

That I understood it.
That little by little
We came to bond.
Under the warmness of
a plastic moon.