sometimes people knock and knock and there's no one home / or i'm home, behind the curtains whispering / just take the flour, take the sugar / or i am the curtains, glorious chameleon / for i am where i live / i am where i am.
and sometimes i wonder, is my imprint big enough? / for someone to fall into when i am gone, for someone to rake over with leaves./ and then i will still be there perhaps, just whispering / take the flour, take the sugar, take the slow golden honey of the morning and the autumn light. / and then i will put my hands over my mouth because the words / they spray and spit and splatter over everything./
and sometimes i will close my eyes and ears and i will say / please, just take. take and take, and no one will give./
sometimes i will take the pheromone soup that is socialising and revel in it / and sometimes i will walk and walk and close my eyes. / most days i am happy, of which i am glad / and gladness is happiness / so i am a living contradiction./ and that's okay. /
we do cpr in first aid and the dummy looks up at me with blank eyes./ we call him mate, because we are tired and bored and australian. / i wish i could save you mate, you're beyond repair./ and i whisper, you are the pathway to save somebody else. / you sacrificed your plastic life / thank you mate, because i am unreasonable and i personify everything to within / an enth / of its life./
but mate was dead anyway, so that's okay, i guess.