Wimp

My feet are cold,
and my spine has fallen.
I see a cat,
running with my tongue.
Feathers are growing,
from my goose bumps.
A chicken has risen.

She was there after all

Last night was fun. We danced and they complimented me on my shirt. I wasn't expecting there to be so many people.

I saw Harvey the other day - actually it was on Sunday. At the airport. He was wearing blue jeans, an ibm fleece and his hair looked like it hadn't been washed for a few days. Because of his unusual dress I had to look twice to confirm my sighting.

Wherever he walked, with the woman, I kept staring and he kept looking back. I decided that maybe I shouldn't stare at him anymore because I was probably making him nervous. He probably thought I'd go up and tell him he was greedy or thoughtless.

I don't see anything wrong with the man. But that is only because I know very little about him. If someone I dictated didn’t know about me I would be worried.

I bet he gets tired of being told why he's wrong. To damn bad that's what comes with the job. He has family to applaud him and hug him.

I bet it took a little bit of getting used to - being greatly glared at by a large number of people. If I took a position like his I would stare dumb founded, at who ever would look back, with tears in my eyes and then yell "why can't we all just get along?"

But that's why I'm not the president of a university.

This is the summer of protest

Rich people and children chew squares of pure milk chocolate. The chocolate lovers who do not fall into either of those categories let the chocolate melt in their mouth and desperately persuade their own tongue to keep the sweet morsel away from their surrounding teeth.

Or so my theory goes.

A photo shoot will take place on Saturday night. Although, he likes light, shapes and reflections and I’ve decided I like people. Perhaps I can persuade him to find the living or maybe we can compromise.

There was a time when I liked work. Actually, it was last week. This week I’m searching for something different but it won’t happen because I go to school.

Damn the man.

Damn the everyday man.

The other day I woke up with a red diamond shape on the top of my foot. We had many theories. The one that stuck: an alien came in the middle of the night while I was sleeping. It mistook my foot for a succulent brain. It was slightly taken aback when It discovered my foot was not actually my brain. Not having enough time to actually find my actual brain It put a tracking devise in my foot and called it an evening.

It was my mom’s theory actually. I got a bit squeamish when she finished her alien theory.

“You’ll be sorry when I’m crazy!” I shouted. “I’ll keep referring to the tracking devise in my foot all because you planted that idea into my head.”

“You’re much too logical to go crazy,” was her reply.

Do you think so?