you said we are birds. or, i said something about a game. i could be a bird.
you said you were one, too, then.

maybe.

i recall that faint horror and the going around, everyone, as if they had a bubble around them. if you have a bubble, you can’t invade anyone else’s. but, not being prone to close talking, nor to that unconscious touch on the arm…it doesn’t matter anymore. i was deliberate, and i know you saw that. i hesitated and saw you see that. and you did what i did. and those pops were much quieter than the ones the balloons made when they hurled scissors at those floating, stupid faces.   but they still popped.

maybe we are birds.
isn’t that what everyone tried to say before? it had to be both of us? even yesterday, she said that i was almost you, which i can’t wrap my mind around, but i guess…maybe i still can’t see myself.

before, i would have panicked to hear and observe these things.

it was like a pair of thrown scissors. quieter, but down to the bone, which is, of course, the object of our deliberations, and is also itself a blade…
i am glad you shared your fit of plate-smashing. i have also done that.
maybe we are birds after all.

i was thinking also.
i dreamt it before she said i was almost you.

and i was thinking.
when she used to call me hers. and that i am probably crazy.
it’s not such a terrible thing to be possessed. i think that sometimes. when people mean it.
whatever it is, it’s never the same thing…but every time, it’s so important to me.
she meant it. and he means it. and i am glad to know that you mean it, too.

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