(to a friend who emailed me this two-liner after reading yesterday's post: "give it up, bitch. when will you ever be happy, again?")
sure, i remember the story you told me once. (or was it twice, thrice, a million times?)
once a fabled bird was born legless. (or was it that someone diabolical sawed off its feet?) and thus, the blighted bird could never alight. it napped amid the meddlesome clouds and was only seen on its death plunge, its wingspan longer than that of a condor's, folded and craped into one tiny ball a mere mortal could slickly cram into his palm.
i guess, you would have to wait, patiently, without murmuring, without protestation, to see how happy i am right now somewhere your leaden eyes will never be able to soar.
(i love you, beyotch.)
