Monday, May 24, 2010
Tonight I touched your imperfections, I stroked them and with love, I saw your joins, the lose thread in your sweater.
You have dandruff, and I don't mind that, it doesn't gross me out.
I almost feel medically professional about it, looking at it without disgust in an orderly manner as though there were something I could do about it.
I accept it as a fact, without judgment.
I find it in someway charming even, a dusting of humanity that somehow makes you more divine, that abstracts your one step further from the requirements of personhood and frees you up to be as high-handed, condescending and wonderful as you are.
This is what it's like, encountering your flaky scalp, like seeing a baby sneeze for her first time and realizing with no small awe, that yes, she's capable of that.