Aging in the Little Place
Alive, he took me out to dinner with my tiny head. I whispered into his enormous ear that something was hurting me, something was always hurting me for a while. The body gets over itself, he replied. But I couldn't understand the stitches of wrinkles, flesh with seams, dark, snarling animal hair appearing all over my body. There was no English equivalent for it. I was afraid of breaking into little, soft pieces could fit into his mouth.
I wasn't attached to anything. I couldn't hold onto his large, important arms much longer. I would be forgotten. Would I roam around his teeth searching for the spot where his words were caught? It was a little place, abandoned and old inside my head, without room to turn around. Everything eventually fell, i told myself as my mind emptied. He didn't have any more food to offer to my small, strange body that would soon be gone.