pinocchio

The room of dusty posters and open drawers looked almost pretty

in the morning sun reaching through the holes in the drapes.

Long unfinished cigarettes grew out of wooden ashtrays

which numbered the tables, ledges and shelves.

Pinocchio, woken as usual by the uncomfortable sensation of his nose

digging deep into the cushion of the sagging purple couch, squinted

as the warm light baked his head still lying on its side.

The Gods tend not to be fond of older, washed out characters

easily driven to cruelty when sharper heroes come about.

Quick to abandon old friends, those in charge

stopped leaving personal messages on royalty checks,

stopped sending invitations to parties, balls and behind-the-scenes exclusivities.

So once and for all, after one too many arguments were shared between both parties,

Pinocchio was plagued with his old malediction.

The now 72-year-old boy spent his days in silence only breaking his hushed state for trips to the psychiatrist, who luckily lived no more than 10 minutes away.

The doctor, against his own better judgement,

still fills out indulgent prescriptions, if for anything,

for autographed miniatures to gift to his grandchildren whenever he should so desire.

Off of the couch, Pinocchio spent the first half of his morning staring

at the wood pile in the corner of his room.

Now his only source of income, Pinocchio’s regained un-super power has left him with an abundance of perfectly smooth, high-quality timber which for years has lived in a pile right outside his back door. Today, the corner of wood, like so many spines, stringy like marionette chords, started to spill over as it does every month.

Another trip to the store. He sighed in thought.

Or, why not try something different?

Pinocchio paused, smirked, as he took his pills.

As the sun began to flood the poster-filled room

of a once much shorter past

his nose extending into the dust at an above average rate, needing to be cut every half-an-our or so,

Pinocchio was comforted by dreams

of finally building a ship,

leaving the Gods and their inky abandon once and for all,

sailing off to be water logged in peace and virtue.