Everybody keeps their distance these days.
Everybody is so many different kinds of people and I have run out of fingers
and toes. There is a taxonomy to this, something I learned long ago and am
still paying off in monthly installments. I can make a list of attributes,
divide them into three columns with headings like mother, daughter and unholy ghost,
the ultimate triumvirate, but most would see through that tactic in no time at
all. Let’s break it down to the smallest element we can. I am not winning
friends here, am I? I can only influence those who are no longer susceptible to
whatever bromide is making the rounds. I might be able to keep some of you off
the ledge if only you'd let me try. Getting to that bedrock means naming
an inconvenient truth. But on the upside, I can be my own god! My very own
lipsticked savior. I can forget the masses, pulverize the phone that collects dust,
twist my foot into every fake smile. That uncrossed threshold opens wide. Raw
sugar between my long, blue teeth never tasted so sweet. My flame. My
vision. My own Holy Grail with a twist.
Michelle Reale
www.sempresicilia.wordpress.com
People With Holes
Heather Fowler