Tuesday, March 27, 2007


It's not clear the tangles have anything to do with us. We tried snipping them with scissors, but those broke into two metal sceptres the children had to play with. We begged them to leave our hair, babies, possessions, and lovers alone. They just stuck bubble gum in our mustaches and tied up our headphones so we couldn't listen to pain-killing music. The animated cartoon figures on TV said all we had to do was be friendly, shake their hands, hug them, share our brand name candy and brand name furniture. Instead, we drew them on sketchpads, their tentacles unloosening their grips around our handkerchief necks, which didn't deserve to get sneezed at. We lifted weights, and when those were floating in the sky, we picked up mountains and jabbed them at the tangles. Still, nothing worked. There's a simple answer and we're not getting it. We're trapped around fingers and their grip resembles death; we saw him in a line-up, we could pick him out.


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