For this to work, I say, you're going to have to be very quiet. But nothing ever really stops. Not the voices. Not the turning of the universe. The Fibonacci sequence rolling like ancient vowels. Like palms at the bends of knees. Not leaves. And if I stood up right this minute and screamed. Wrote you that letter I've been meaning to send in blood and bones about the way life goes funny sometimes. About dying young. When I was little the whole world got pushed into one small dark room. Let me out. I'd like to leave now. These nightmare moments when I'm shaking and you're shaking me awake. No. No. Please, just be quiet. Then roll numbers and vowel sounds into songs without words. Listen. When I am eye. I am not your hybrid construction. I am not a half-life substantiated on synthetics. On medications. I am a real girl. With a name. A sexless purpose. I didn't need you before I met you. This is the dream Aye. The strong worded one who never gets the chill up her spine. Looks over her shoulder. And I don't need you now. She says. But this me hears her and closes one eye. Cocks her head like a puppy transfixed by the sun. Waits. Stop it. No. Please. I am not this girl. Stayed and linked on your chain. I do not run wildly round you like some poorly trained dog. Tricking for your affections. Bow. Wow. Still. I am just one woman. With perfect measurements and a goofy smile. Who isn't quite tall enough to be more than average. Who is too smart for her own good. Eye. Aye. I. There has been trouble. With my days.


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