Sunday, February 19, 2012

from 25x25, part 12

12
when I say I was most alive at eight, he tells me I was
never eight. He tells me I was my whole life, especially at
eight. Now, the sun is coming through large windows in a white paneled ballroom of a former silent
film star off of the Whitestone Expressway in Queens. Earlier, there was a child dunked in an over sized silver chalice to erase original sin. And again, the young man behind the cafe counter whom I have had early morning reveries about has stolen a warhead TM candy from a customer. I know the most attractive woman in the entire milky way. She is my closest friend. It's never made me feel weird or unhappy. Socco voce. A girl in high school always touched her feet to my feet when we slept next to each other. I looked at the wall. The eight year old I am now sitting with asks to sing Katy Perry's Firework TM song before she goes to sleep. This moment is basically perfect. We are eating pop music and sipping on stars. There isn't anything unastounding about the type of intelligence that is released in a culturally repressive household when a girl can be what society asks of her. Just for a moment. Just for the 10 minutes before bed. The most important ten minutes of the day. (and who you spend them with). The milk way Queen calls to tell me that last night she gave water to a dieing goose whose life partner (the goose's, not her's) was standing by. U realize u were like a miracle baby right? Like special circumstances, a brave mother, like ur like a prodigy or something, the stuff that legends are born of. On the day of rapture, the milky way Queen was at a fundraiser and the other suicidal girl had been swept away in a gust of pigeons who ate out her heart. 3Iae opio o4po 353. 22Io oogja goa ojgg. Eie eiago agjslgj. I loved her very much.