1988

March 15, 2011

she came back and my heart sank.  she didn’t have glasses anymore, was wearing a leather skirt.  the news exploded like a population of rabbits, i could hear the chirping and smell the burning fur and knew that it was over.  my heart sank.  my shy collection of thoughts revolving spiraling into the black hole of assurance my soul sunk at the center of this well of thoughts.  she was back and as if seperated from me like a sheet of plexiglass, like i was a bear at the zoo and she walked outside licking cotton candy from her fingers as i slept and maybe saw her eyes but she walked away nonetheless sadder for my apathy.  she was back and i could see her as an adult and me too, lawyers somewhere around a table, built of words and numbers but the fact of her remaining i can change into this i can get away from anything i am a butterfly and you don’t even have a name

it became me in the dim yellow hallway, it passed over and through me and held my face noted that i was sad but didn’t have an idea the painless cannot look at the pained for too long