There is a ball within her that cannot be shuttered or contained. It is always on, permanent, no matter what she is doing in her daily life. It is a nugget of what is so often seen as fear or even confusion, but in the pretty lights of daytime it is revealed to be innocent wonder, where sometimes, too, a butterfly might flutter lazily by and even alight.
That girl understands.
She knows how it is.
So I've got alot of crap to clear out that society has packed into her head, maybe even having enough surplus stuff left after the deconstruction to host a fire sale.
Maybe I will find the flowerpot with the head of her first lover in the potting soil, that it has grown, not producing little green apples or dowdy pears or pretty flowers, but lemons, which are an acquired taste and require specific conditions, constancy.
Funny how we confuse so often, innocence, equating it to fear, confusion, stupidity, and we indulge the illusion that a woman who posts nude Instagram photos of herself has a lot of friends, yet let her be in real need and see who comes calling. Not even her sisters like her, I expect. They are like colleagues working a job, that life has become something of a video game and the cretins need another nudie pic to keep her name alive.
The myth of her.
Not that girl, but another girl, understands.
If only I could overwrite the brain, change the meanings of what fruits always hang from the tree, create, not ads projected at women, but a purely Sapphic grammar that honors her.
And she doesn't need to post nude selfies for me to call her.
Erica Parsons body was found in a shallow grave. This disturbs me, along with the prospect that the schmoe who buried her may have struck some sort of deal with prosecutors, even while he sits in jail for another crime. I say, FBI, lie to that man, that you can lie to a suspect to induce a confession or an admission of guilt in any form.
Wonderful Donald is right that these people are giving away the store with their inane deals. WE need to win on one of these deals, sometime.
I had sudden bathroom urges earlier in the week. I mean sudden. BOOM.
Curse of the Folgers. And we had National Coffee Day this week.
No specific incident to report.
Spillage is not always indicative of a boon, nor soilage always a loss.