i wrote it, but i don't get it either, don't feel bad.

chloroplastically peeling bananas to feed her long lost sister she wobbles through the desert of the flipper flopper penguin and gives him a big kiss on his beak before ripping his blubber right out of him and using it to insulate her dead baby.

it's post-armageddon and she's a ghost but she doesn't know that and she still lingers in the purple ashes of earth as she forages for food in the graveyard and munches unknowingly on the bones of her lovers.

some people are scared of being in elevators, but say they go on an elevator with a little kid who's terrified too? well, all of the sudden the older person can't be scared anymore, for the sake of the child.

asymmetric poetry wasn't enough to light nudecavewoman's technopunk fire when she was alive but it's more than enough now that she is reborn into her unacceptance of death and has these two dependents to care for.

as she sits in the middle of her flames and cries out her glory she realizes that no one is listening, and wonders if it's like the proverbial tree falling in the woods...but then she decides that's ridiculous. obviously it's nothing like that, because, after all, her long lost sister and dead baby can hear her.

the beatboxboomboogy only has enough fuel to last in her chest-membrane for three point seven minutes more.

tick.

she melts into maalox oblivion and her dead baby and long last sister finally sit up, and serenely wave good-bye.



~RS
February 2005
Used With Permission