Why I Love Dinosaurs

July 9, 2010 § Leave a comment

Because she reminds me of that bit in Alice in Wonderland where Alice plays croquet with a rolled-up flamingo and her main concern is that her flamingo won’t shoot straight.

Because she shares her blood with strangers. This is a reason to love someone.

Last night I woke up, dark, stretch, where the hell am I, street possibly, and when I leaned over there were floorboards and this was a good sign because it meant I was inside. In someone’s house. Not in a street.

And this in itself has restored a little faith inthe villagers. Last visit shall be swept away into the cavernous corner of repressed memories, oh Canada, Canada. Moose and maple leaves. Mountains that topple into the sky because really we are all upside-down and the sky is the right way up and all its life it wondered why we are the way we are.

And oh, hell, we are all immigrants in our souls, didn’t you know, you thoughtless sunny-faced empty person with poker chips for eyes? Yes, you.

My soul in an immigrant from 1893 Tuscany, I have inherited her heart and head and helplessness. Even as I stand I quiver and I see the street signs shiver as if imitating the history of my head, and I am aware of my life as a sphere and the old man gesturing from the platform. Leave me alone, talk to your dog, talk to that child, talk to the telephone.

She, oh she, she would have eaten it anyway and that is why I love her. If she had been there, in Eden, she would have bitten. And so would I. And that makes us women and oh so full of sin, and often, part of a vision that a Buddhist monk in Nepal bowed to one morning as he laid his palms upon a rained-on flagstone and wondered at that water.

In my head I have worked out that there is one thing we have not touched down, that piece we do not own, that we send on, that we have borrowed from the immigration council, what is it, what? I don’t know, and I am not meant to know. Not now, anyway.

Because you know, communication will kill this cat. Curiousity merely scratched the surface.

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