It is that time of night again, the time when I get that lump in my throat. It’s like my body is rebelling again the life I’m living- it’s not satisfied with the way I’ve patched myself up. I’m that pillow I made in home economics in high school- carefully stitched together with a motley assortment of buttons, a big sunflower in the middle. Sure, that button is happy. The other buttons are different, though. There’s the pitiful little lion, the dolphin poised to jump at any sign of ambiguity. That blue one in the corner is bigger than the others; it sticks out in that obnoxious way that only an overweight- no, “obese” person can. There is one shiny one; maybe it has a chance after all. The rest are normal, normal, normal….
The thing about that sunflower, though, is that the middle pops out if you force it hard enough.
“give me nights of solitude, red wine, just a glass or two…”
