21/10/2011 § Leave a comment

“Her name is Oryx.”

“Can I call her Rikki?”

And there were some looks.

She had stopped eating, she didn’t drink for days which, to her, must have been a semi-lifetime. Her potassium was high and her protein was low and I lay with her on the kitchen floor telling her she was wanted and loved. Her green eyes were glazed with unwant-on-ness and the look of longing to belong.

I remember being a kid and sleeping on couches or deflated air mattresses, slumber parties and sleeping bags, half-inch thick foam mats to keep the roots from out of one’s back. Still, to this day, before and after sleep, I stretch my legs and arms out until I shake, roll around and find the sweet spot of a bed. Longing for dreams and wanting.

Like kittens.


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