Tuesday, January 11, 2011

She allows commemoration. It's as if she's an alien, yet I know people do this: take pictures, remember moments. I saw this phenomenon with my sisters, who unlike myself, all have verifiable lives. If you ask where they live, there is a pic of ground that would raise its hand if it would. Open up Earth and say she is my Queen, and they have babies, made there be life: usually the first child who gets all the pictures, and the scale descends thereafter. My sisters used to pack cameras, to remember to pack the camera. Used to pack the camera, check that it was asked, ask their husbands “Did we pack the camera?”, how the uninitiated imagine OCD, always with the on and off on and off, just checking, of lights. But again, she's not American. I have never met her face to face and still she floors me, fucks my respiration.

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