Katie Christian

I’m Having Fun, What Are You Having?

Yes, mammals are born alive, not from eggs. Their mothers have teats. Anything else? Sometimes I can’t remember what other kinds of animals there are. Reptiles are all I can think. What are—sorry to bring them up—roaches? My science education was sub-par, and maybe I wasn’t listening. I was drawing my hand on the back of my notebook and praying to some kind of god. I don’t often think about which animals hatch and which are birthed, bare, sliding out like it’s a water park. We have primates, like my stuffed animal Abu. Lichen the color of the satin shirt I wore to my grandmother’s funeral. Let’s not forget the hummingbird I want to feed from my hand—the trick is to sit where they eat and hold sugar water in a red glove. Be still and summon them. I’ve never done it, but I’ll write the eHow afterward. Outside there’s a bird singing desperately for love. A little bit louder now, I shout like a wedding DJ. Do the birds hear me back? Where do the things we say go? Who does my presence benefit? I try to tally them off. One, two, fourteen, five. My love has a Lydia Davis book, and then he has two, and I think that’s pretty hot. Tonight I’m looking forward to my garlicky instant noodles. Tonight I’m looking forward to my life. Oh, this old thing? I just found it. I’m not sure where it came from.