I can't feel my fingers when the
water gets cold, I'm soaking in it. As instructive as a grackle looking peeved
on the sidewalk, by which I mean a starling, is how I feel on my better days.
But there's also that pesky hum under my feet, encroaching upon my days in such
a manner that I feel "not here." The kind of person who sounds better
before they open their mouth is not the kind of person I am. Quite the
contrary. I'm the most well-spoken person at all the Hollywood parties I'm
never invited to attend. Meanwhile, I'm fashioning you a necklace. This stone
stands for patience & this gold chain makes a sound like a bird if you
twirl it above your head. There's no mistaking you or your kindness. There's a
palliative whirr to it, like the leaves all alive in June or a cat falling
asleep across your throat.
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