Sound Waves, Laser Beams, Impulses, And SignalsJen Tynes
I feel like a mother when I wear some one else's shoes, when I tie somone else's laces into rabbits' feet in darkness on the front stairs at dawn, waiting for the mailman to come and rub my heels together til we're home, I feel like a mother talking loudly around young boys and their fragrant tufts of armpit hair on the subway, I feel like a mother revving my engine on the highway, in the yard, and when I am not behind the wheel making horn noises with my nose and mouth, I feel like a mother who has forgotten how to breathe water, insisting that everyone ought to be breathing air by now, I feel like a mother when my mother is dead although it hasn't happened yet that I feel like a motherless child, I feel like a mother when I make a list of names that calls all my enemies out and I post the list on a grocery store bulletin board, the T's all crossed as ugly moustaches, I feel like a mother when I shave my beard and all my children tiptoe around the kitchen sink giggling and swinging from their blades, I feel like a mother when I am offered glasses of wine without pieces of bread soaking in them, when I transmit my own signals from antennas from a jar in the earth to a cage full of animals in the livingroom, I feel like a mother for cooking those books for you but that wasn't love it was history.
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