Cinderella
Poetry
met this lady called Cinderella, that’s not her real name, but I can’t tell you her real name because she wants to work for the NSA. that stands for National Security Agency — they’re the ones that collect everything you search on the internet like a squirrel hoarding its nutcases for the winter.
met her at a party when I was playing guitar as everyone else was getting plastered. when she was near me I asked her: “you’re Cinderella, right?” which she admitted and said: “you’re Dan. I’ve heard a lot about you.” then she caught me off guard by asking me if I have to bend my thumbs to play the guitar.
“sometimes, but you can get away with not bending them.” she asked me this because Cinderella can’t bend her thumbs like the rest of us Great Apes. her thumbs have been unopposable since birth and she’s been looking for an instrument to play ever since.
the thought I had directly after how in the world does she open doors? was boy, all this time I’ve been taking my thumbs for granted.
the second interesting thing I learned about Cinderella besides the fact that she can’t bend her thumbs is the truth that she can’t tell a lie. she’s incapable. at least she can’t tell them when the NSA hooks her up to a polygraph during the job interview.
poor Cinderella wanted to smoke pot with the rest of us but, conscious that the NSA would ask her if she had ever taken drugs she resolved to inhale the cannabis smoke that everyone else left behind. we all gathered around the bong and whenever we took a hit we would share it with Cinderella, exhaling into her adjacent, unlatched mouth so that she could pass her job interview.
this is why you meet new people — they can be really fucking fabulous.
Thank you for reading! © Daniel Barry, 2021
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