| ordinary life | |
| I applied once again for an ordinary life. I thought I had the skills, the prerequisites, the training to couple: advanced degrees, lemon meringue pie, caesar salad, the ability to fold napkins and flattery into pleasing shapes. I unwrapped my placemats and my tablecloths, all the pretty coverings. I was a pretty covering. I spread myself out on his bed. I hemmed my edges I tucked myself in I pulled myself tight I smoothed out all my wrinkles. I wanted to accomodate him. He said I was too large for him. Adjustments would be necessary for me to fit within his life— just some minor alterations, he said, as he trimmed me down to size. My objections just confirmed my complete unsuitability. I was so rigid and inflexible, he complained, as I folded myself up and packed myself away. | |