Getting Out

I’m an elephant on my hind legs, up on a ball. I’m juggling many things, and I can feel the warmth of the spotlight. I don’t know how long I have to perform, but I know everything falls down at some point. I’m a disastrous spectacle.

I’m a nested doll with many layers. I can’t write that without thinking Shrek and onions. I’m not smelly. I’m layered.

I’m self absorbed when there’s so much outside. I’d like to open a door, and step outside myself. Look at the cloudy blue sky, and the treetops rustle. Do you hear the laughter? I’d like to think there’s a time we can all step outside ourselves, shake hands, and talk it out. Because I have a lot I want to say, but I gotta package it so you don’t trash it.

But let’s stay outside, where we rode the bus and walked through parks; where we stayed by the water and heard the quiet of the world through the ambient noise; where we walked until our souls were sore, and then we retired into a cafe, where we talked about how nice this is and how we couldn’t believe we got this. This and that. This and that.

I got full-body raincoats so when it rains we can sit in the rain. I guess we could have worn trash bags, but that’s just ridiculous.

 

 

 

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alanwrites

I'm writing a novel, but this is for my other projects. Thanks for reading!