this is what comes with your salt water lung decision

There's news to discuss and lots of reminiscing to be done, but right now I need to crash. So to tide y'all over, here's some vintage Cindy poetry. Enjoy!

I Wanted to Go Out Dancing But The Music Was Lame

Sakes Alive, I've come back down to the ground
because I'm empty
but watch me while I do the helium bloat
and float back up like a resurrection
like a bubble from a plastic dog's mouth
I'll take someone else's air for now to make me ripe and round
and I will hang from the vine not wanting to be picked only waiting to
fall
and there I go, there I go, there I go

back down to the ground that is soft and black and bugs crawl over
and if I just stay still the ants will never get the fear message to
bite
the ants will never know how I welt and panic from lack of breathing
never know the locked joints their tiny venom causes
and how is it that I might reach for a hand to reach down
and how is it that fruit often gets underfoot
and how is it that others instinctively step over and then pause to
look
behind knowing that what's on the ground might just be good eating
with juice that runs down their faces staining their clothes
leaving them sticky with what's called nectar

stick a sharp hollow object into a tree that is not unlike any other
place a bottle underneath it and catch what's called syrup
it flows slowly sticky tears
and if tears were allowed the privilege of thickness
would they lose their salt
and if questions lost their answer would we bottle up our asking
cork it, leave it aging in some cellar fermenting
making glass pressure that is waiting to go pop
not like a weasel
but champagne