MY CAPITALS

by Kieran Devaney

JUST THE SNIP OF A SCISSOR

PARADISE IS INTOLERABLE

FROM HIS HEIGHT HE COULD SEE THE FIRST SIGNS OF CONES FORMING

LIKE BUBOES ON THE TOP OF BRANCHES

AROUND THORNS

WHICH WRENS & PIGEONS STOOD AMONGST

AVOIDING

THE DOORS BOARDED

THE BUILDING NOT VERY OLD

WASTE & OPULENCE

HIS STORY ENDS & IS DROPPED

THE OUTER NEST

FIGURE IT OUT FIRST

JUST ON HIS OWN DOING NOTHING; IS THAT OK

WHERE ARE WE GETTING WITH THE TWO OF THEM

BEING WORSE THAN HE CURRENTLY IS

ANECDOTE IN THE CONTAINER OR NEST

OPULENCE & CLASS

HOVERING CLOSER & CLOSER

THE NARROWING TERRAIN OF HUMAN VIRTUOSITY

BURST A CLOSING STONE

OF THE EDIFICE OF

SO UNUSUAL TO FIND YOU PAYING ATTENTION TO ANYTHING

THEY SEARCH THE HOUSE FOR HIM

HOW TO WRITE A LOOSE CANNON, AS SHE IS

CRISP & ORNAMENTAL

BLACK SHELVES OF DVDS AND XBOX GAMES PILED IN INTERIORS

DEGRADED SEARCH FOR MEANING

CORRUPTION & NAIVETÉ OF AMBITION

& DESCRIBE AS THOUGH MOVING THROUGH THERE

TEXTURE OF BAD DRIVING & GUN VIOLENCE

SOUL HULLS ITSELF

HE HAD PULLED ON A NIKE VEST IN BRIGHT TEAL & A GRIZZLIES HAT IN AN ALMOST MATCHING HUE

SOMEBODY TELLS YOU ABOUT SOMETHING THAT HAPPENED TO THEM IN THE STORE

OR IN THE PARKING LOT OUTSIDE

OKAY, WHAT DO YOU EXPECT ME TO DO ABOUT IT?

TIRED ISN’T A PERSONALITY TRAIT

I CAN SEE OUTSIDE; I’VE BEEN OUTSIDE

A PAUSE ENSUED IN WHICH

& YOU INSTANTLY KNOW THE PEOPLE NOT TO FUCK WITH

BELOW WHICH POPPIES REDDENED IN THE DRY GRASS

AN OLD MAZDA, PERHAPS AN MX7

AS THOUGH DONNING THE UNIFORM OF THE OPPRESSOR

IN THE SHADE AFFORDED BY LOW, DOLEFUL HAWTHORN IN BLOOM

THE INDIFFERENT WANDERING OF SOME FAT GUY IN A PREDATORS JERSEY

& MADE THE WHOLE ENDEAVOUR SEEM HAPHAZARD, AMATEURISH

SOME DOZEN OR MORE WERE HIMSELF

BESIDE HIM, ON THE PASSENGER SEAT, STILL IN ITS WRAPPER

THE CHICKEN ENCHILADA BURRITO

BUT DO YOU WANT PEOPLE TO LIKE YOU OR DO YOU WANT FREEDOM?

YEAH THAT SHIT WAS BONE DRY, DEAN

BUT CAN’T I HAVE BOTH?

THE SHELVES I BROWSED IN VIRTUAL DARKNESS

I LIKE TO KEEP IT SPARSE

THE CHICKEN AN INERT BREADED CLUMP

WARM & BULKY

LIKE ONE OF THE UNDERSIZE DOG BREEDS

JULY 18 2006

FAINT FEELING OF A BRITTLE, PRECIOUS INTERIOR ARCHITECTURE

AN ITEM THAT CAN’T POSSIBLY EXIST IN HIS HAND

THREE DOLLARS & CHANGE I PAID FOR IT

HELD THE BEIGE NUB

HUNG THERE LIKE THE STUMP OF AN AMPUTEE

AS THOUGH IT HAD BEEN FORGOTTEN

FRUIT FLIES HAD GOTTEN INTO THE HOUSE & ACCUMULATED

NURTURED IN CUT LEMONS

DAYS LATER, SPRITZING THE KITCHEN SURFACES AGAIN

COULD NOT RECALL IF HE’D LEFT THEM OUT DELIBERATELY OR NOT

EACH ONE EXPIRED SO EASILY BUT THE SWARM TOOK DAYS TO RECEDE

A HABIT THEY FOUND HARD TO BREAK & KEPT UP

SOFT, PEACH LIGHT VOID

THIS IS THE MOST PERNICIOUS OF YOUR DELUSIONS

AT WHICH HE LAUGHED UPROARIOUSLY

HE FOUND COMMENTS FROM AN UNFAMILIAR ACCOUNT

GULLED INTO THINKING

WHICH REITERATED THE PRAISE & OFFERED MORE

WITH ANTIC, DESULTORY ENERGY

I FELT I KNEW YOU INSTANTLY, SHE WROTE IN CLOSING

THEIR BOXES THE TYPE OF GREEN THAT SHOULDN’T BE IN ADULT ROOMS

BUT NOW EVERY CONVERSATION IS LIKE YOU’RE BOTH ON COKE

LIKE A TOOTH RELENTLESSLY PUSHING AGAINST ITS NEIGHBOUR

THE WHOLE MOUTH GOING THAT WAY

DIM, DULL FROM SWEAT

BUT WHICH FOOL?

NOT THE MOST FOOLISH

BUT THE LOUDEST, THE MOST BRASH, THE MOST KINGLY

MAP TO TRANSCENDENCE

DESIRE

WE LOST

THE MIST CLEARING FROM A DISTANT HILL

OUR BODIES WON’T BE ON EARTH MUCH LONGER

BACKLIT LIQUOR BOTTLES IN ECTOPLASMIC SHADES

& EVEN MORE SELDOM ALONE IN THEM

CERTAIN OF THE BAR’S BOOTHS WERE IN THE SEMIDARKNESS OUTSIDE THE TELEVISION’S PENUMBRA

ALL OF THIS OCCURRED IN MERE MOMENTS

THE TIME IT TAKES FOR A PUPIL TO FLIT FROM ONE SIDE OF THE EYE TO THE OTHER

THEY GO OUTSIDE TO TALK

I’M FUCKED UP

PHONE SCREEN CRACKED; VAPE PEN

I JUST SPOKE TO HIM LIKE TWO DAYS AGO, HE WAS OKAY

SOME LIKE PEPSI, SOME LIKE COKE

I TOOK THE SAME SHIT & I DON’T FEEL ANYTHING

SUPPLE

WE COULD SEANCE THE OLD HIM

I GO THE WHOLE HOG IN A SEANCE

COMMOTION IN THE STAIRWAY ANNOUNCED HER ARRIVAL

BUT NOT ALONE & NOT HER COMMOTION

WHOSE HOARSE VOICE PINGED WITH BLEARY EMOTION

I SAW HIM FUCKIN TUESDAY & I DIDN’T EVEN SPEAK TO HIM

THE FUCK, MAN

I HAD TO MAKE MYSELF INFLATABLE

BUT THE CREATURE SEEMS TO BE A GLACIER

RIDGES OF THE ARCHED SPINE LIKE KNUCKLES ON A HAND

BELIEF & ACTION ARE THE SAME THING

THIRD WEEK OF AUGUST

HIGH CLOUDS SCUDDED ACROSS THE SUN

THIRD WEEK OF AUGUST

WHEN THE SUN RETURNED IN LONG, BLOCKY FLASHES

A MINUTE CLOSER

AUGUST WANING; ALMOST NOBODY WAS AROUND

A CHERRY RED SEDAN A HIGH PROMONTORY GLIMPSED FROM OUT IN THE OCEAN

THE PAPER BAG MOTTLED

& THOUGH HE DID NOT ARTICULATE IT TO HIMSELF AT THE TIME

LIKE THOSE WHO BECAME ADDICTED TO THE COCAINE DRIP IN THEIR THROAT

CONCENTRATING ON REMOVING THE FOIL IN A SPIRAL

TILTED ITS GLUTINOUS PROTUBERANCE

FLACCID YELLOW TUBES

CHICKEN THE COLOUR OF VARNISHED WOOD

THE WHOLE SANDWICH IN THE PROCESS OF DESTROYING ITSELF

HAVE YOU EVER THOUGHT ABOUT THE PEOPLE WHO RIOTED WHEN THEY SAW ‘RITE OF SPRING’?

CAN YOU IMAGINE ANYTHING MEANING THAT MUCH TO YOU?

WE WERE STOOD RIGHT BACK AT THE SIDE OF THE STAGE

YOU NEEDED A DIFFERENT TYPE OF PASS TO GET NEARER

A GREEN BASEBALL CAP WITH DRINKS IN GOLD EMBROIDERY

I TOOK THE SAME SHIT AS HIM ON TUESDAY & HE’S WALKING AROUND STILL FUCKED UP

I SAW HIM THIS MORNING & IT’S NOT HIM

IT’S NOT THE SAME PERSON

HIS KNUCKLES ACROSS THE BEER BOTTLE WERE LIKE THE NOTCHES OF A SPINE, ARCHED

EYES PINK & SHADED, WILD

BUT YOU’RE HERE, YOU’RE OKAY

I CAN STILL FUCKIN FEEL IT IN ME

I CAN STILL FEEL IT RIGHT HERE, YOU KNOW?

LIKE IT’S FUCKIN WAITING TO TAKE HOLD

LIKE A TIMER THAT HAD ALREADY COUNTED DOWN TO ZERO

IF ANYTHING WAS GOING TO HAPPEN IT WOULD HAVE HAPPENED BY NOW

COINS FALLING FROM THE MACHINE’S SLOT

TALKING ABOUT EATING WATERMELON SLICES

FUCKING EIGHT MESSAGES ABOUT HOW GOOD THEY ARE

I LOVE YOU MORE THAN THE SAND IN THIS WORLD

MADE OF CREAM PLASTIC, BLACK PLASTIC, WOOD, METAL

HUNDREDS OF THEM, DESIGNATED WITH FLOCKED & FADED TYPEWRITTEN LABELS

THEY FOUND & PINNED A BEDSHEET TO THE WALL & GOT THE WHOLE THING GOING

& THEN, VERY SPOTTY & GRAINY, A PAN ACROSS A DOORWAY

THE SKY, THE WHITE SUN, TWO GIRLS, LONG BLONDE HAIR, SHIELDING THEIR EYES

ACROSS A GROUP OF PEOPLE WHOSE EYES COULDN’T FOCUS

SOME INNER LAYER OF THE INTERSTITIAL

THINGS WHICH THEY WOULD FIND INTOLERABLE BECAME COMPLETELY NATURAL

WHICH WERE NATURAL COULD NO LONGER BE STOOD

ARE THEY TWO AGENTS?

OR DID THEY DECIDE UPON THE HOUSE THROUGH SOME RITUAL?

SOME KIND OF SECRET; AGAIN HEAVY HANDED

STOOD WITH HIS HANDS IN HIS POCKETS

LIKE SOMEONE HAVING ALIGHTED A TRAIN IN A NEW CITY

FULL OF SCULPTURES & FRESCOES

CONTAINING A LAWYER’S OFFICE

A CHEAP LAWYER

A LAWYER WHO

THE SUN HAD CAUGHT THE LID OF THE EXTRACTION FAN’S BOX

UPON WHICH A LOW SKIN OF OILY WATER TREMBLED

SURFACES WERE OFTEN COVERED WITH BLACK INK THAT WOULD NOT SOAK IN

CLUNG TO SKIN & WALLS

POOLED ON TABLES & THE SLEEVES OF JACKETS

THE WHOLE WORLD WERE WRAPPED IN FILM

HE BLINKED & A TRUCK EASED IN FRONT

HE REMONSTRATED WITH HIMSELF FOR HIS SILENCE

HIS SLOWNESS

HIS PREDILECTION FOR NEUTRALITY

THE PROBLEM WAS NOBODY LIKED THAT

AS THOUGH ALL THE EFFORT HE PUT IN EFFACED HIM ENTIRELY

A GHOST

ACID SPILLED ON THE FILM STRIP

WHERE HIS MOUTH HAD ONCE BEEN, HIS CHUCKLE

PLEONASTIC INTERJECTION

WHITE PENUMBRA

HEAT HAZE ALL AROUND HIM

A FOG OF SUMMER INSECTS BITING BUT NOT DRAWING BLOOD

THE CONVERSATION GOT AWAY

LIKE HE HAD TURNED UP TO THE PARTY IN WHITE SHIRT & JEANS

& EVERYBODY ELSE WAS IN COSTUME AS A MONSTER

I CAN GET IT HERE ON MY PHONE, WAIT A SECOND

IF ALL GESTURES OF A LIFE WERE REPLICATED IN A DARK ROOM

AN OBSERVER WOULD NOT BE ABLE TO TELL WHICH WERE THE DECISIVE ONES

BRANCHES IN THE WIND HOVERING LIKE CLAWS POISED TO STRIKE

I’M THE LAST ONE ALIVE WHO SAW HIM SPEAK

IN BUFFALO

ANCIENT DUST BLEW THROUGH THE AUDITORIUM

I STILL HAVE IT UNDER MY FINGERNAILS

GOLD FRAME CHAIRS WITH PINK PATTERNED CUSHIONS

IN THEIR ABSENCE, THREE UNFAMILIAR MEN CAME & SAT IN THEIR CHAIRS

SAID, “I’M SORRY, THIS TABLE IS OCCUPIED”

BUT THE MEN, WHO WORE THICK, PATTERNED SWEATERS, DID NOT ACKNOWLEDGE & NEITHER DID THEY MOVE

OR SPEAK TO EACH OTHER

EVERYTHING WAS HOT & CLOSE & THE FOOD DELICIOUS

BLACK JACKET DAMP AT THE SHOULDERS

LAUDED WITH SERENE EQUANIMITY

GAVE A CONCILIATORY SHRUG & TURNED TO GO BACK TO THE BAR

NEXT WEEK, FOR SURE, I PROMISE

GLANCED INTO THE DARK STAIRWELL & RETURNED TO HIM

SO THE SHIFT IS FROM ENTREATY TO CRITICISM

THE AIR HOT & MECHANICAL

HELD HIS LANE AS OTHERS MERGED OUT TO THE LEFT & BACK IN FRONT

FELT DISMAL & UNDIGNIFIED JOINING THE QUEUE

CRACKED & SUN DAMAGED, YELLOW, DEHYDRATED WEEDS GREW IN PATCHES

SEE ACROSS THE LOT’S HAZY EXPANSE

A FEW CARS IN RED & BLUE PICKED UP THE SUN

HAD NOT MOVED AT ALL

MOVED & JOSTLED TO AN UNHEARD RHYTHM

SAYS HE GOT THE WRONG SANDWICH & HAS TO GO BACK

OR THAT HE WAS IN TROUBLE

HIGH & CLEAR AS THE CLOUDS

IF EVERYBODY WOULD STOP TRYING SO HARD

WHICH NIXON HAD ONCE VISITED & DECLARED UGLY

HADN’T EATEN SINCE YESTERDAY MORNING

IN TOO TIGHT OF JACKET

APPEARED ANGUISHED, DESPERATE

SOMEONE SHOUT, “WHERE IS MY BIKE?”

CALLER HAS JUST GONE INTO HER GARDEN

& NOTICED A BIKE HAS BEEN PUT IN THE CORNER

IT IS A BLACK BIKE

CALLER IS

THEY ARE DRINKING, THERE IS FOOD, THERE IS MUSIC

BOOMS & ECHOES OF SLIGHT SUCTION

BLOOD; WHITE NOISE

STOP SEARCH, STOP ACCOUNT

AT THE TIME IT SEEMED AN ALARMING CONCLUSION TO REACH

BUT NOW PERFECTLY SENSIBLE

THE BRITTLE OUTER BARK SLOUGHED OFF

BONE UNDERNEATH

Kieran Devaney is from Birmingham, UK. His debut novel, Deaf at Spiral Park was published by Salt in 2013. His most recent publications are ‘Sitcom’, a story first published in online journal Fanzine and later selected for inclusion in Best British Short Stories 2019 (Salt), and a chapter on Alan Burns in British Avant-Garde Fiction of the 1960s (Edinburgh University Press). He is a freelance fiction editor.