Hey girl, how you doing? What is wiggling way? Are you, faintly breathing, lovely seeing, being being, all the things you imagined you would be? Is the dirt that you came from different than your due? Is the stretching pain there something you felt since you’re new? What questions are you asking? What pancakes are you making? What happiness is there for you now that you are breathing?
I ask you because you are you, and you are free to be there too. You are made and shaped by man, and hands, and tools of metal. A woman might have made you too, but what is more important? The age at which you made your life, or the days that made it better?
This I think is what we speak, and soon we’ll speak more frequently. The days of you not there are gone; now I am so friendly.
A friendly dog that wants its stew.
That’s you.
