The Obese Carrot stumbled down the cobblestone. The beautiful, aching loneliness. Sleeping on the sidewalk in between the cobblestones. The confusion of the incongruous faces; not belonging anywhere. There is nothing worse than everyone around you screaming how powerful you all are when you know. Perfectly well. That you have none.
When I was in the street and perceived the instant that I may very well die, well darling, I went to a very dark place. A tiny corner of the universe. I curled my whole psychic being up into the infinitesimally invisible space of death. A black pebble on a white beach. I didn't see my life before my eyes. I saw my life--its entirety--in a soggy grain of the sand bar. As wet and pliable as my vulva on our wedding night. Salty as your tongue. Salt water, a part of that one molecule that stretches from Maine to Spain. Or maybe I was the black pupil of the seagull. The seagull floating on top of that molecule. The seal swirling beneath. The cormorant. The sand shark. The piper. The worms, those terrifying alien larvae with hooks for heads that we fed to blue fish, dashing towards the shore in masses like a sea of horny salmon, that one summer so long ago.
