My entire life has been informed by the absent space between us; not the physical space but more the way I crave it desperately. The pervading eyes and I am (smiling) seeing the space close in around me. The way there was once twenty feet between us but then I looked too gaily upwards and then suddenly there was ten feet (I am smiling), then five, then one foot and the ubiquitous hands on my shoulder, on my middle back, my lower back and the phrase “you’re too pretty to…” (I am still smiling) and the way they trail their fingers further down. But in a huddle. They are all in a huddle. So many of them and no space between us. I am smiling because they always make sure to tell me to do that.
It is important they tell me I am too pretty to frown.