myself I receded
into the carpet maybe.
I don’t know what I did
some days. I was  hard pressed
to prove I could be
both a dehydrated kind
of  thirsty and
in my pursuits
but both my hard-wired
illusion and my precocity,
my seduction were
suddenly a bit
of a crucifix
needing some tempering,
some rectifying,
maybe a mirror.
I began to practice my
southern accent,
my Irish accent,
my English accent,
my New Orleans accent.
“Fine,” was all I could
muster. and I tried not to look
at any age lines.

I went forward
with an earnest attempt
to gain access to the mind
of someone else.
I remember just staring at birds
for minutes at a time
with no other thought
but a swirl of energy
swarm me.
and how I could once hear a
woman chewing potato chips
across a coffee shop.
it was a million
little things like that
where I stopped
and realized I could
probably walk through
walls if I was careful.

“the lullaby”

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