Conjunctive Thought

stand-aloneThe hours daunt by like a little child running to the Ferris wheel. Moving towards the light permeating through the white pupil – my thoughts, my hand bag, and typewriter in tow. I ask myself if it means anything to see beyond the little black dot in the middle of my eye. And if I’m the only one asking and the only person I’m asking is that little voice inside my head. Wondering if this constitutes as insanity or schizo talk. Nevertheless, I don’t think I’m the only one that has the little voice she talks to when no one is looking (and sometimes people stare). It’s not about questioning motive, but answering in which language do you think? Sifting in and out of sleep I see a dark shadow meandering towards me. The shadow feels somewhat like a little old man hunched over mimicking a bird nesting its spawn. I welcome the bit of awkwardness of this sighting, and do nothing but gaze in the other direction. My crooked smile and the warmth felt as harmless as a baby boy in his crib.  I take a deep breath and look back – the dark spot vanishes, and I mutter  “danka”.

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