Let's Destroy Something

Let's destroy something. Let's destroy every-
thing. Let's gather all the furniture in the house
and arrange it into a big pile in the back yard,
toss in our favorite shoes, light it on fire, then
sit in empty rooms, barefoot on the cold floor.

Let's destroy something. Let's destroy some-
thing expensive. Let's drive to your mom's
and wreck everything in her china cabinet,
break each blue Japanese plate, smash each
hand painted glass elephant to the ground.

Let's destroy something. Let's destroy some-
thing electronic. Let's go to wal-mart and
melt ice cream over keyboards, cut headphones
into pieces, put ipods and cell phones into
blenders, then run over the stubborn parts
with our cars.

Let's destroy something. Let's destroy some-
thing homemade. Let's make a breakfast:
french toast and eggs; let's dress up, and
set the table with tea lights from a French café,
then we'll Frisbee toss it over the fence,
into the neighbors' backyard swimming pool.

Let's destroy something. Let's destroy some-
thing lovely. Let's draw hard in thick black
crayon all over your little nieces' kindergarten
drawings, smudge out the person with three legs,
the purple two headed triceratops, the girl with
a flower for an eye.

Let's destroy something. Let's destroy every-
thing. Better yet, let's destroy ourselves. Let's
swap identities; shave my head bald, you'll grow
yours out long, and strawberry. I'll wear an army
patch on my sleeve, spin you in circles on the dance
floor by your pinky. Let's quit our jobs; you'll walk
into your boss's office, naked, singing The Miss
America song, then we'll give away our house keys
to the first person we see on the street. Because who
needs suburbia, who needs things neat? Everything
put together will eventually fall apart; Let's destroy
ourselves, Let's disassemble from the start.

bio picture

Michelle Jacquemotte