baskets from spiderwebs.

24 April 2012 § Leave a comment

I’m not ready to be awake.

The world is shifting from peaceful to intentional. I am the cause of some things, and the effect of others. Consequences are not cut into little people holding hands, as in films and books, but into playing cards, and some are more kind than honest. They weave themselves waterproof, are strongest (even if not beautiful) when together.

The girl with scissors is ready to spread her arms wide, ends of a paper chain in each hand. An upside down arc – the same person, over and over again, holding his own hand – will bounce and sag down to applause, and she will smile, proud of her creation.

I decided that I didn’t have to know how many people would be holding hands when I was through, and cut the folds, precisely. Swift, confident ‘K’ sounds constant. The noise of paper dividing. Templates procreating. The short handbook featuring directions for a life well-lived, xeroxed like a high school geometry exam. My eyes are bad anyway, so making out the blurry numbers is embarrassing, at best. I don’t know circumference any better than I know calculus. I remember only that Pi goes on forever.

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