when we were two (sounding like a fucking AA Milne title, or a Prince song) -- it didn't hurt so much. or maybe, it hurt just fine and i was too goggle-eyed to notice. bliss out, baby. but now that we are an easy one and one, a comfortable tug from the far fingertips of our promenade and dance, it hurts like hell. it hurts because the me-ness is clearly defined with a good view for all but those in the cheap seats, and sadly i find stains when held up to to the light. when we were two i wore shiny robes and laughed at your smudges and your smears. sugar wouldn't melt in my questionable mouth.
NOW.
i am growing domestic. i am freer than i have ever before (if i choose to close my eyes and grab hold before it passes right by me). it's a little hard to explain, but i like it. i have a house and that's what is the best part. my space and not space i am sharing, common space and private space but mine altogether, though half of it is not. it is very hard to explain. it has to do with having a front door, and a back door, and a sliding door to the patio as well. perhaps lots of exits equals true happiness? i am searching for serenity, and at times i feel i have it...as a placeholder in a house, unrequested visits made by neighbor cats imply an obligation to be home. domestic does not mean death, not yet. planting flowers means tending them as carefully as a baby, but if they wither and fade away, will i cry for them and steal out in the middle of the night? it's too soon to tell. for now, i'll let the computer screen serve as television, that talks back and kisses me good-night.
SOON.
i want a little respect around here. if i am not better, i am dead. to float through sidewalk crowds with a silken blindfold on, and tap the heads below: duck, duck, duck...goose (an angel's job). suddenly, my hand which had passed swiftly THROUGH solid matter, neutrino-like and delusions of grandeur following, is now, is now...thick and persuasive, to shove off-balance and say -- you. are not. normal. you. will live uneasy. wanting. but, you will live. simple as that, with the tumble down to be compensated by the climb back up, all hardened claws and compressed lips. i want a little boost, is all, a back to step on or a pat on the ass. to provoke me into revealing the whites of my eyes.
