 | |||
She wears negative green, a necklace pale against her skin
looks bladed in. We had a conversation once. Bereft of
a philosophy. Each moment in that room slapped itself out
of a stifling boredom. She was sneaking out into the corridor
where everyone applauded her opposing view. Here's how
she decided what she was, whose fault and so forth. Every
tip of midnight she would gather back as though a ball of
string had rolled into the room where cats slept, for it was
their room. When photographs emerged, cats were revealed
where you might like to see some flowers. She feigned
ignorance of her signature unhappiness until I promised
I would frown with her for several hours if she would just
agree to be erased from my mentality for good. I'm often
only blunt enough to lift into the sky when chase vehicles
approach in search of a balloon. A fat enough balloon to
make the wizard seem a reasonable person. Any day now
you are going to see me go to work in my own home. I plan
on being far from all the little pins she keeps to make sure
no one has the requisite supply of air for possibliities.
Crawfish, laminated shuffling, onlookers, the world of
not enough attention
Sheila E. Murphy
No comments:
Post a Comment