this is how a short story starts

i dont remember the first time, cant remember the last time and all of it is falling around me, confetti and sugar cubes, rice flying down stairs of the church and slipping down my dress, into the yards of fabric around my legs, between the tiniest of tiny gaps between mine and his pressed palms. last week we were sitting on the corner curb of 16th and mission, among bum spit and burger king wrappers and now, now we are wearing silly outfits, smiling and hugging old family members we dont know and putting cake into each others face even though i know he doesnt like sweets and he knows i hate his mother. last week we had been regular, had been riding bikes and drinking pabst and today, today were freaking married.

i finally find elijah in the back of the studio, where i had left him that morning, mixing paint and smoking cigarettes and looking at pictures of unicorns on the internet.
“whats up, man, i thought we were going to meet at 8?” it was now 10:30.
elijah turns at me and his hands and arms are entirely covered with pen marks, drawings and words, half sketches that look like math problems and parabolas, smiley faces and phone numbers. this morning he had been clean, we had washed his arms clean.
“lij, what the fuck is all over your arms again? i bought you that notebook for your poems?” i see the notebook still in the bag in the corner.
“linds, i just have to put it anywhere else on paper, you see, i just cant put it on paper. its too
final, and this? these things? they cant be too serious. they have to be as serious as what people say out loud...and how serious is that? what type of change does that make? im not even sure of half the things i read in print. i just cant be like that linds, i dont want to be unbelievable.”
outside a group of kids walk by and i catch their sentences slamming up against each other and the summers hot night, hanging phrases and laughs, suspended frivilous nothings. i want to be one of those kids that talks about nothing, i think. i want to stop all these secrets out loud.