burrowing into the sand, coming up only to see the world as a fast and chaotic brushstroke. Or when I am Queen Leaf, a Saturday in October, caressing the wind as I defy gravity like an indignant child. I am the starfish kid too, spread out because I love all directions equally. Me and my 1,000 brains. I am a shopping cart with jammed wheels, I’ll go where you need me but not without a fight. I am just as I’m not. I’m fighting for relevance in an irrelevant world. Eat a hole through the screen door, let the rabbits out of their cages. Open all the windows and project your consciousness out of each and onto the clouds, heroically like the bat-signal. The world wants to know you’re here. I know it might not feel like it, but you exist and with that comes necessity. The world needs you! You fit snug into the crevices of those with you-shaped holes. Living is a mutual act. It has a way of nestling within itself like an infinite Russian doll. I am a nondescript weed in the garden bed, emerging to witness the lilies, their color and fragrance, the big plump cucumber flaunting its purpose, the stake in the dirt gracious enough to carry us both.
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