March 12, 2014


A few years back I was asked two simple questions: if you could be any animal, what would it be? And, if you could have any animal, which one?

Code for, how you see yourself, and how you see your ideal partner.

I said cat, and horse.

I’ve changed my mind.

I am an elephant.

Elephants can be trained to sniff out poachers, and match them to the exact snares and guns they touched.

Rescue elephants come back from the wilderness, willingly, to their rescuers for help when they are attacked with poisoned arrows. They know their safe places.

Baby elephants throw themselves in mud when upset, apparently.

That’s how you become a big stomper when you grow up.

More than anything, elephants don’t forget.

I danced yesterday, and my heels refused to hit the floor.

They clickety-clicked like a fucking tap dancer’s.

I dug not the allegria yesterday.

It feels like the happy dance of an octogenarian who just discovered he did not die during the night.

Imagined invincibility.

As sweat poured down my neck

I smeared my feet into the ugly distorted marcajes of the farruca.

The ones that look like you stepped in dog shit

Or like you’re putting out a cigarette.

Can you imagine the biteable cuticles on an elephant?

I told my heels I was a stomper with a minor in faceplanting

Give me the yang, you fuckers

You don’t understand

The trunk said out of the mud

That is not why I am upset

That is not why I am crying

That is not why I am furious

The herd watched

Raised an eyebrow

Took a dump

And waited.

I’ve changed my mind.


  1. "You don't understand
    The trunk said out of the mud"

    Wow, Chris.
    And this is how it is.
    Perfectly muddy.
    Yet, your words made me cry.
    I can still feel them.
    And the music.
    I'm here still.

    1. Thank you, dearest Leah. So am I, tantruming somewhere in the muddy background. Big hugs.


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