re-edit this allison.

does anyone know where carol finch's grave is so i can go there
and throw rotten tomatoes at it.

read em and deep, baby,
read em and deep.

i don't think i react in the same time frame as everyone else,
like it takes longer for the thoughts to diffuse and stretch and get to where they're going.
"oh i get it now" i say to the broken air.
and it just stares at me in disbelief.
because it knows it's like hours after the joke landed.

i'm certainly not competent in any sense.
but then maybe i'm competent with more senses.
i'm not so much fast on the uptake
but certainly admirable on the downswing.


and i change my mind when i'm writing.
i may like you well enough in our time together
but who knows what terrible things i will have to say about you
when my hands have the action.

so happy when hands know what they're doing.
little hand-brains in every knuckle.
they're so intuitive, my hands.

i will probably not think much at all
during our actual conversation.
you will rarely find me broaching new subjects
i have not already toyed with at home.
i will pretend i'm really listening
but i'm more absorbing, taking away.

not the slightest interest.
until interest develops.
i find it hard to be enthused.

once in a while i will be 'on' and we will have a good time.
then my mind again will hibernate
after it has gathered enough interesting sticks that i can be sure
it will not shit all over the place.
tell me if you think i'mgettingbetterallthetime.

fairy godmonster, i could use a boon.


i have loved and grown cold to someone before.
it's nice, in a way.

and awful.
but nice too.
knowing how much of who someone is to you
is based on your conscious decision
to love them.


it's okay if i am like a word you're not sure how to spell,
and thus avoid.

it strikes me first the violence of it
then the awesome power
of how it is so lovingly 3-D.