I'm like a dandelion, ready to blow away in the breeze at any moment. Don't trip Cat, you can't sneeze without causing an explosion and there's a lot that's tickling my nose. And there aren't any raindrops right now, to keep me from drifting off. No flowing liquid lines of life to pull me deeper and push me higher. Roots, get some.
Because it's radical. Like a smoothie in an open blender, more of an art piece when it's over." There isn't time," I hear them say, "the mess will have to wait." Speak slowly friend, we speak different dialects and that mess you're talking might just be my life. In fact, tune out and switch off for a minute; you're on way too hot. It's too much rush to pack into one day and it's easier to scrape strawberries off the ceiling than to worry about missing your bus. There it goes. There it goes again.
And so Polly, as you can see, there aren't any more crackers. They've been given all away. One at a time they disappeared as you watched, thinking it was some kind of game. Talking won't bring them back, too late for that. Cheap tricks and charades only work for so long. Now we are both getting hungry and the cage doesn't seem quite as comfy, does it.
