May 28, 2005 21:55 | Confession

Cross-eyed

I did not share the words that came to me at that moment, watching a car turn a corner, a leaf fall from a tree, a cloud overhead.

one of those moments where the smallest event can take on unprecedented enormity... where every detail and every second is blown up, under a microscope, and then fantastically zoomed out and placed, just so, where it should be. the peripheries of one's view are then drawn together, folded over, collapsed and sucked inwards into that minuscule point of the world we might call familiarity.

That point that hovers, just so, between my eyes, just above my nose.

There is a creature, pacing in its confine: a square box I have set myself into, which no longer fits and whose edges are bombing outwards as my wants and needs balloon and rise.

There is an expression raging at the thought of being second-placed, yet again, grounded and forbidden to float by the vagaries of a perceived obligation to maintain some sort of mondain status quo.