we fall through time and space like lewis carrolls' alice chasing that rabbit with the pocket watch, down the hole. i always imagined it hot and muddy, sweaty soil with eight eyes like a spider watching our awkward human falls curiously and without blinking. what could the rabbit be? metaphorically speaking. that thing you are chasing? the eluding constellation you follow and grab at, the songs in the back of your head. i am only just skin and bones, blood and indecision, i think, but when i write it out it i know it is a lie.
i remember you telling me about daddy long legs in our backyard in brooklyn when i was small, they're rare, you said. it is important not to hurt them you told me and i thought, but it's important not to hurt anything? this is what we know before we find out that humans are like fire, brains and hearts are flames for certain and the hurting is inevitable, the destruction grows with your arms and ears and before you know it you're long-legged on your fifth cup of coffee and there's 1-800 numbers calling all afternoon to tell you there is money to be paid, money owed. before you know it there is love owed too, and love to borrow, there is love to furrow in and die.