She's upset.
I know this because she said "I'm upset"
She holds a crumpled and torn tissue in her hands
as if it were a tiny bird. A tiny dying or dead bird.
"You are upset"
I repeat it in my head three times
Trying not to mouth the words.
Lipsynching to my thoughts.
She catches my mouth moving, my lips expose my teeth.
They are slightly yellowed from neglect. The act of tying my shoes and brushing my teeth seems oppressive. It's my fear that if I pay attention to some details I will HAVE to pay attention to ALL the details.
There are too many details.
She says, "I am upset," she says,"and you are thinking about your teeth right now," she says, "You are thinking about tying your shoes and the details. Details," she says, "which you cannot even concieve of," she says, "because you can not approach the simple logical ones, ones," she says, "of cleanliness and self care."
She says, "You are not listening to me because you are comparing my tissue to a bird, a dead or dying bird."
All this
I struggle to not move my lips,
or expose my teeth
I struggle to make no metaphor about her oily limp hair
I struggle to keep it straight forward, just the facts.
Just periods and nouns and verbs.
But my lips move, they lipsynch the whole thing
and she walks away, its like watching a train arriving but in reverse. The feeling too is similar.
I know this because she said "I'm upset"
She holds a crumpled and torn tissue in her hands
as if it were a tiny bird. A tiny dying or dead bird.
"You are upset"
I repeat it in my head three times
Trying not to mouth the words.
Lipsynching to my thoughts.
She catches my mouth moving, my lips expose my teeth.
They are slightly yellowed from neglect. The act of tying my shoes and brushing my teeth seems oppressive. It's my fear that if I pay attention to some details I will HAVE to pay attention to ALL the details.
There are too many details.
She says, "I am upset," she says,"and you are thinking about your teeth right now," she says, "You are thinking about tying your shoes and the details. Details," she says, "which you cannot even concieve of," she says, "because you can not approach the simple logical ones, ones," she says, "of cleanliness and self care."
She says, "You are not listening to me because you are comparing my tissue to a bird, a dead or dying bird."
All this
I struggle to not move my lips,
or expose my teeth
I struggle to make no metaphor about her oily limp hair
I struggle to keep it straight forward, just the facts.
Just periods and nouns and verbs.
But my lips move, they lipsynch the whole thing
and she walks away, its like watching a train arriving but in reverse. The feeling too is similar.
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