Thursday, June 19, 2014


Girls fly around him like finches in a dry fountain. They try to take a dip but he never gives. Even in his age he has never once opened when it was meaningless. He will feel when he knows and if he doesn’t know then he will wait cautiously as they attempt to gently remove his wilted feathers. Sometimes when he drinks he feels more like himself, or at least a part of who he used to be. He forgets that the part he lost was not really him, it was only a temporality that he shared. The empty place that remains is not reserved for a new wing. He knows that only he can fill the space and he looks for a life of eight years lost to explore. There are treasures of experience he lacks, but the care for another blocks his ambitions of being young again. Separation is his fountain of youth, but he is swimming like a 200 year old sea turtle in a pond of tadpoles. Only Darwin would be interested in his  slow paced love life.

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