KRISTEN ORSER
Hours in front of the mirror, in very odd postures. I am leaving. How can I explain that with more fanfare than 'it's winter and I need to go somewhere where I can cartwheel.' This is just a prelude, things are messy; especially when the avocados are overripe. Bananas too. I am obliged to the particulars of this kitchen. All the voices kept alongside the hum of this refrigerator. Yours is almost always the periphery. Your voice and the news we can't seem to turn off. Weather happens again and we miss the point of that news story we were watching, the story about the women who can't stop pulling their hair out. I know this is nothing like me, but I want to relate myself to almost everything. I'm sorry my ego seems so untouchable, but your voice also doesn't break. And I think that is something that comforts me, lets me make unfunny jokes in our orange bedroom. The bedroom where we wait to be outside. I make no dogmatic statement, but I hope you'll be able to find all my secret desires in the body of the snowman. Also, I hope we both can sing a high C comfortably. Today is backwards day according to the child. Everything is inside out and we are laughing. It's a big deal: Nobody cares about today because we are all already thinking about tomorrow, next week, June even. This June Jesse and I are going hiking and I know I'll be sleeping in a tent remembering the last time I slept in a tent with a boy who wasn't Jesse. Sometimes we think about the past and we feel a need to say something very particular to somebody or to keep something very particular a secret. This is complex and we make a complex to justify our thinking about something we shouldn't be thinking about. I am thinking about somebody else, which is another way of saying, I keep secrets. This is another way of saying I stand on my head and when the blood finally rushes to my brain and I fall down, I am glad. Glad to go to bed with someone who understands that too much percussion makes my teeth feel like they're going to fall out and someone touching my toes makes me have to pee, but this doesn't mean I'm honest in pink tights. For the sake of simplicity there are omissions and the narrative is like a nasty accident. I'm sorry, I should have asked how you were. I know the identity theory has been causing some trouble. A parallel: J desires K and K replies, 'Um...' Do you know what I mean? I mean we tried to fit everything we were thinking about in our hand and, when it didn't fit, we made a reality TV show about it all. It's a familiar phenomenon, a symptom of keeping our secrets behind our knees. I want a sentence, something that you leave behind my ear.
AGAIN, A LINE OF THOUGHT
