I Express Surprise
(The Lost Kafoozalum by Pauline Ashwell)
One of the beautiful things about a delusion is that no chicken got to get
back in its shell. Therefore a delusion can be a fine thing.
I got lost twenty miles from home practicing emergency turns with no sharp
edges but a kind of desolation.
Most people I know are angry belligerents. The second worst is also in bed
picturing how to explain to her parents. I would prefer to think it is
local art forms cause me to feel miserable.
I express surprise because she gave up thinking him perfect years ago.
I am crossing an open space.
I do not see. I cannot see and I cannot scream and I cannot find anything.
I do not care for this at all.
I am at least fifty before it occurs to me to bite the hand. I discover it
is plastic, not alive at all.
I confirm this statement and ask for explanations as though she had
expert on the rehabilitation of
cargo-carrying, drop-shaped, and I only hope they don't
offer hope of reconciliation
an outside force seen to be
Gosh. Come to think of it you have not come from a planet somewhere.