she told me about how she slipped and fell down fifteen marble stairs. windshield wipers, she said. she can't look at windshield wipers. its been sixteen years and she knows she's brain damaged. her jaw dislocates on planes.
she said, pain is pain, if you feel it, its real. but you can't live believing your pain is worse than everybody else's, because it's not.
this made me think about a month before that, when i met a man by the carts in the parking lot. he was struggling with two fingers to get a loonie out of a plastic change purse he kept in his breast pocket. i said, here, just take my cart. but he looked at me very seriously and said no, no ma'am. i don't leave any debt unpaid.
and then just the other night, when my lover kissed my face in the dark, and said he loved me and goodnight, i swear i saw at least four-plus-two years floating away from me.
they just drifted away in boredom, like those strange particle lights you sometimes see in the night.
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