I fell out of the tree. I was walking across the ice, and I wasn’t. These things always happen in pairs. I thought about fruit and fruition. I was in pears. Of course, two of them. Two pairs of pears. The first pear of the first pair housed my head, but not my hair! The second pear of the first pair housed my rabbits, but not my teeth! The first pear of the second pair housed my sweaters, but not my toothpaste! And so it was inevitable that the second pear of the second pair house nothing at all, but not me! I danced in that pear until the bruises rose. And of course! My roses bruised, also. And again, my cheeks, they slipped onto the stove. Please! I see! I’m supposed to do these things!
I ate all of the backyard grass. I was finishing my first steps, and I wasn’t. My feet were in clogs. My feet were in clods. My feet were in clouds. I ate all of the backyard glass. I was swallowing my first sentence, and I wasn’t. Here is where I said it. Listening to the other side of my inner side left me sideless. The ins remained, but the sides were now miles up, tied and knotted at the ends of balloons. And then the typical happened. The sides continued to rise; I knew they were rising because the balloons were getting smaller and smaller, but the sides, my sides, appeared to remain the same size. Appeared that way, because they were growing and receding simultaneously.
And so, I was bending my knees. The balloons kept rising. I was jumping rope. The sides maintained. I was giving and receiving nicknames. The balloons rose still. I was kissing girls, when the sides began to swell. The sides, my sides, usually black, usually nothing, burst forth, downward in actuality, glanced the side of my face, melted the inseam of my pants, and re-entered the atmosphere. And my sides! They were not the stove, nor the pears, they were my insides! And my cheeks! They offered so many favors! So many car rides straight to here! Please! I see! I’m supposed to be an apple!
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