I love when people watch me fly. There has to be a chandelier with
crystals for some strange reason. At first I can only get a few inches
off the ground, skimming the carpet, but still people think it's a big
deal. I tell them they can do it too if only they'd believe. I also have
to tell myself I can do it because if I believe I can't, my silver shoes
won't lift me and I'll be stuck with everyone else at the party by the
champagne fountain and that's no way to get high that really counts.
I invite the guests to join me, but they just stand there with their
teeth in their mouths and I must say their teeth are so white they hurt
my eyes when I look at them for long. Anyway, here I am up at the
chandelier and I see whoever was up here before me had a feather duster.
You can do it, I yell down to the guests, just stop thinking you can't
and you will. But I grow weary of convincing others that they have the
power to get high without drinking bubbles. Next I'm going to think about
flying out the window to see what's going on around town. Maybe I'll
meet someone else who believes.
through a tear
in the soji screen
the Milky Way