I give names that fit you the best.
Spring! for the Tigger (for so little rest)
Pooh for snacks, both honey and sweet
Eeyore’s the friend too grumpy to meet.
Some days you’re the Owl! Scattered, rambling and wise.
or Kanga, so patient when the best of us cries.
when shy, you are Piglet, ironically bold
for when the world needs a hand, it’s his hand to hold.
Bounce, thump, click, catch. It was a fruit but it was rubbery on the outside. For me, it made the perfect bouncy ball. I missed bouncy balls. Who knew I had liked them so much until there were none to be had. I felt these absences of material things with keen mental shifts and the briefest sensory memory of how some of them felt in my hands. The moment I had grabbed the fruit, it was all over.
Bounce, thump, click, catch, drop, thump, click, thump, crash, thump, thump, thump. Shit. I looked at all the colorful pieces of glass on the floor. I hoped that I had not broken anything really important. I bent, keeping an ear tuned toward the rolling sound of the fruit so that I knew in which direction it went and bent to pick up the pieces.
I was on my knees, crying when I heard him come in behind me. I couldn’t pick them up. Every time that I tried, it had screamed in great sobs. They went right through me. I had cuts on three fingers from my jerking reactions. Blood was smeared down my pant legs. I used the back of my hand to try to wipe at the tears again.
“I think I killed it,” I said to him.
I couldn’t believe it. I had killed glass…
Imaginary Friends.
Tears, like blood, taste of salt. But blood carries a metal after taste and salt carries an after taste that reminds of us that release is not just another word for freedom; it is a an act, which carries more power than a state of being.