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Puddle | Sep 29 2005

I loved your idea to speak to me through an implant in my head. The truth is, this already happens. Your voice is in my head. Today H came over to borrow some cat food. We spoke for perhaps five minutes. At one point I looked at her as I had not done before and thought about us having sex. It wasn’t a serious thought. Sometimes I think we are simply animals in what we want of each other—affection, approval, sex—and that everything else is misdirection. Your eyes… I am trying to remember where we were when I first noticed them. Was it the park? Was it on the rock in the park? I think it was. If not, it was the restaurant. No, I think it was the park, I think it was when we played the hand slapping game in the park. Do you remember? You slapped my hands again and again, but I never managed to slap yours. It was because of your eyes. I’m almost asleep now. I feel like my mind is slowly settling and spreading out. It’s like melting ice. It’s like what happens to melting ice. A puddle.