Zero Distance

Who is Narcissus without supply? Only Love can answer that question now. No more fairy tales, for we have reached the end of the collection. Speaking of myths, God has me at zero distance and I am not moving. Even turtles cannot go down this far.

A fox glides across the 4 a.m. street. Behind him, a monstrous orange moon barely clears the treeline. How hard it is look away! Neither one needs my gaze. Neither one can be faulted for that. I've lost my appetite for anything that is not real, and the shit in this story has just gotten really real.

I remember learning how to be afraid of bodies. What they don't tell you about being a survivor is that you also learn how to be afraid of your own body. The struggle for power is fought in her body, over her body, through her body. When she adapts and learns to live in her mind as an effort to understand worth and joy and love, she thinks she is making herself stronger. She is not. For when the predator comes for the mind next to feed, she is left with the nothing she actually knows. I mean, that's one way of looking at it.

Finally arthritic trees rake a stony sky. November's spine straightens before winter; mine too.